The Deal
by AmandaSection25
Summary: Set right after the kiss in NXM #17, this story follows the relationship of Logan and Jean as it SHOULD have gone and then some!
1. The Deal

**Title:**  The Deal

**Author:** () Feedback welcome.

**Archive:** Yes, to anyone and everyone who wants it, just give me credit where credit's due ^_^

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own any of them, I just borrow them, let them play, and then sneak them back home to Marvel before anyone notices they're missing.

**Summary: ** This is the abridged, "clean" version of the story! The whole thing, unedited, can be found under my profile (Amandasfire) , because it gets explicit in parts and had been edited down from an NC-17 (there) to an R (here.) Please only go there if you're legal, but if you are, I highly recommend it! ;)

This fic is comicverse/Alternaverse… this branches off from that tease in New X-Men #117 where Jean… like… basically goes and offers herself to Wolvie and he turns her down. Yeah, RIGHT Mavel! This is how it should've gone!

* * *

Chapter 1: The Call

* * *

It began with a phone call.

The whole mess began with a phone call—a drunk dial--- something I thought I'd left behind me with my college academy years. This time, though, it was different. That one call started me on a course that, months ago… well… I couldn't even have imagined.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It was past midnight and I was awake, fighting one of the many bouts of insomnia that had been plaguing me as of late. Every night, it was the same story. Scott and I would go to bed together, I would read, he'd carefully take off his glasses, and we'd both say goodnight. Ten minutes later he'd be snoring and I'd be wide awake and not the least bit interested in counting the patterns on the ceiling.

That night, I was in the kitchen searching the fridge for something low calorie yet tasty. Emma had a good habit of stocking up on weight watcher products that I stole whenever the chance arose (the danger room only burns so many calories), when my cell phone rang. I looked at the time and saw it was close to 2am. The number was unavailable.

I hesitated for a second or two before I flipped it open, mentally shrugging. I wasn't sleeping anyway, and even if it was a heavy breather it had to be more interesting than scouring for 100 Calorie Snack Bites at two in the morning. Not to mention it's pretty difficult to prank call a telepath—considering my mind's about a hundred times better than star-sixty-nine.

"Hello?" I said.

"Jeannie," came the rough voice on the other end of the line. I recognized it immediately.

"Logan?" I said, surprised.

There was no reply, but I heard a muted clink, like glass hitting pavement. Probably dropped his beer. I wondered how much he'd had. Considering it was 2am, I was guessing a keg or six.

"Logan, where are you?" I asked, the dim glow of light in the empty kitchen making the conversation seem strangely intimate. "Are you in trouble?"

There was a slow breath at the end of the line, and then his voice again.

"Jeannie, you're beautiful baby, did I tell ya that lately..? "

I gave an over-exaggerated roll of my eyes despite the fact that no one was there to witness my performance. I could tell already I didn't like the direction this was going. Not that I couldn't take a compliment, just so much as I knew that when he sobered up it was going to get awkward.

"Logan you're drunk. Where are you?"

"Mmmat a payphone. I couldn't stop thinkin' about you darlin'.. I .. had to call, I…" his voice came through, scratchy low and desperate. "I just wanted to talk to ya, Jeannie. It seems like we never talk anymore."

_Which wouldn't be my fault_, I thought. _I'm not the one who makes monosyllabic exits and then disappears for months at a time._ But I knew better than to argue with an inebriated Wolverine.

"Logan, tell me how much you've had to drink. Did you put the bar out of business yet?"

There was a pause on the end of the line.

"I dunno Red. Lost count. Two bottles a' Jameson… eight shots of whiskey…"

"Really, that's it, eight shots? Sure it wasn't eighty?" I said sarcastically, taking a glass out of the cupboard and placing it on the counter. I got out the low fat milk and poured it slowly, cell phone cradled against my shoulder.

"Doesn' matter. What matters is what I've gotta tell you because I know if I don't now I never will. Jeannie I—"

"Logan! Wait-- think before you speak!" I said quickly, waving my hands as if he could see them, hoping to cut him off, but it came out anyway.

"I love you Jean. I been in love with you since the day I met you. I know I can't have you and it tears me up inside, it feels like something's got ahold of my guts, it feels like –"

"Logan…!" I said, squeezing my eyes shut at the onslaught of words. And then softer, "Logan, stop. Stop." I wasn't embarrassed—really, I was flattered if anything, but I knew that he was going to regret this, and knowing how it was going to be between us made me cringe.

"Listen to me! Are you listening?" I said loudly, putting a hand against my forehead. Someone was going to come home doing the walk of shame tomorrow.

"You're drunk Logan. Don't hang up, take a second to sober up—I don't want you driving -- you want to talk we'll talk. All right? I can forget this ever happened. Okay? Let's just start over. Where are you, anyway?"

I took a long drink of milk and waited for his response.

There was a silence on the end of the line.

"I gotta go," the gruff voice said suddenly.

"Wait, Logan wait I—" I started, but then there was a small chime as the line went dead.

I stood there barefoot, in the kitchen, holding my glass of milk.

More interesting than counting ceiling patterns, indeed.

* * *

After that incident, to my surprise, Wolverine never said a thing. His pride was wounded, that I knew for certain, but I thought I'd at least get a joking apology, or maybe even some crass innuendo sent my way to cover his true chagrin. Instead, he ignored me. And to my annoyance, and then alarm, it started to drive me crazy.

I knew it had just been Logan on a bender, good old Logan suddenly basking in a burst of immaturity and indulging in his perpetual self-destructive side. Nothing new. Yet, for some reason, I couldn't seem to get the words out of my head.

It was ridiculous. I heard those words every day, from my husband. Scott saying, "I love you" in passing, as he left. But it was something else… the tone of his voice. That raw need, that was something that caught at me, something that I hadn't heard in a long, long time.

"I love you Jean." Something in me couldn't let it go. I found myself daydreaming about it after I'd dismissed my class. And at night, I felt the little hairs at the back of my neck stand up as I wondered just what it would be like… but then I would only let myself wonder so far.

A little imagination can be a dangerous thing.


	2. The Proposition

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is rated M for mature themes, don't read it unless you're comfortable with that! Again, this is the edited version, for all you people with (somewhat) clean minds, if this were a movie (I wish!), a heavy R rating.

SUMMARY: Jean breaks down and goes for exactly what she wants!

* * *

Chapter 2: The Proposition

* * *

Logan had been gone for four days—skulking into the mansion during the daytime and disappearing at night—when I finally decided to go see him. I thought our distance was pointless, and nothing that couldn't be fixed with a few easy words. He obviously wasn't going to do it, so I chose to be the bigger person and sort this out.

Carefully, I cast my mind out like a net, encompassing the forest that surrounded the land. After a few minutes of searching, I saw his mind, bright and pulsing like a star. I started out on a path towards the forest, fully intending to smooth things over between us.

It was a good two miles out from the mansion, and I was slightly winded by the time I got there. He was doing some kind of yoga, or meditation. It made his mind glow. A few meters before I reached the clearing, I telepathically transformed myself into the illusion of a deer, knowing Logan would immediately sniff me out. I saw the small smile on his face as he recognized me, and I dropped the psy-image, glad he'd appreciated the joke. Bingo, his defenses were down.

"Long climb for a fortune cookie, Jeannie," he'd said, his back to me, and his voice was the gravelly smooth calm of someone far off, so different from the emotional turmoil that was brewing inside of me.

I had only good intentions—just a friendly chat. Then I started talking to him. Before I knew it, what had started as a simple greeting turned into a messy confessional.

"My telekinetic gifts are coming back, and it's like this big muscle…and I feel so strong and alive and Scott…Scott's just somewhere else…"

Once I had started going, I couldn't stop.

To make a long and personally painful story short--I ended up spilling my heart out to him. Everything, all at once: Scott, my powers, the countless worries that had kept me up night after night. It had been building in my mind for so long that it all came out wrong, jumbled and disjointed.

When I'd finished talking, he'd pulled me to him and my heartbeat tripled. I thought--I knew--it was finally going to happen.

His lips touched mine with a small jolt of electricity…and then he, not I, pulled away. He ran one hand lightly through my hair, a serious look in his eyes, and then he said the words.

"We both know the deal. We always have. It would never work between us."

The words hit me like a slap in the face. Honestly, I think part of me just couldn't believe he'd said what I heard him say. It wasn't what I was expecting. Ever the repressed telepath, I managed to maintain my composure and hide my disappointment and surprise, but inside I was seething. I backed away from him a few feet, feeling suddenly foolish.

"I know. You're right Logan, of course…" I said, trying to keep my voice even as a bitter taste formed in my mouth.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "I…don't know what I was thinking. I should—I should go back, they're expecting me."

I turned and walked away, my face hot with humiliation, frustration, a light tingling sensation still playing on my lips.

Logan couldn't sense the deep hurt—the embarrassment of it—because I had my shields on high, but God, I did. I felt it like a knife cutting into my skin.

Shallow as it sounds, to say it was a blow to my ego would be the understatement of the year. It put me under a dark cloud that seemed to follow me everywhere I went, a lightless place from which I could not emerge.

Logan. Wolverine. All these years…he'd chased me. Pursued me. Relentlessly, aggressively. Dogged me at every turn. Driven Scott to the brink of insanity. He'd tested, teased, pushed until I had no choice but to push back. And I had never come to him, never initiated any of it, until now.

And he'd flat out turned me down.

Why? Why all that effort just to let me slip through his fingers? Had I really sunk that low, or was this just some twisted sense of honor he felt he had to uphold?

Jesus. I'd had two men battling for my affections and now I couldn't even get a man to hold me out of pity. An estranged husband was bad enough, but this…

I wondered if Logan knew. I wondered if somewhere inside he felt smug about it, or if he felt the loss as acutely as I did. Was he bluffing? With Wolverine, it was always impossible to tell.

I wanted nothing more than to find out.

* * *

Things got worse with Scott. I'm not saying this to defend my actions, or try to justify anything that happened, but it was the truth. He had been cold and distant as of late, and even though we shared a psy-link I was met by an icy silence in his head.

We shared a bed together, but that was all. When we made love, it was infrequent and perfunctory. He was always a cautious, polite lover, and made sure I was satisfied first, but often I got the feeling he was just going through the motions—this is something you're supposed to do with your wife, so we'll do it, and then we can both go to sleep.

I knew he thought about Emma. He tried to shield it from me, but I knew, and I didn't care.

Insomnia—every night, I would lie awake. Think about the missions. Think about what I could do differently next time. Think about my marriage, my life, the burden of my power. And then I would always end up thinking about that stupid phone call, and our kiss. It tortured me, thinking about that kiss.

I don't know what made me decide to do it, finally. We'd had a long day. I'd had a terribly unimpressive presentation at a very important summit meeting and I came home feeling tired and cross. Scott had ignored me and I'd snapped at him. I know I should've felt bad about it, but in truth I felt nothing at all.

I felt nothing. I think it was at that moment, as the words "Scott, I don't care!" were coming out of my mouth, that I knew what I was going to do.

I stayed up that night, watched the moon rise, my whole body singing with anticipation. I'd run over and over the fantasy so many times in my head, but I'd never thought of it being real…until now. Here I was, and I was contemplating adultery. I was thinking of cheating. I had no trouble admitting it to myself, because nothing was going to cushion the blow this time. I'd always hidden, I'd always run. Now I was going to face it down. I was going to face Logan down, and I wasn't going to walk away until I found our truth.

So many times, for so many years I'd been put in the same situation, and every time I'd backed down, turned away. I was sick of my own cowardice, thinly disguised as moral objection. Just once, I wanted to be the one to give in to my passions. I was tired of being perfect. All perfection ever brought was misery.

Those were excuses, and I knew it, but it didn't stop me from wanting to stray.

Scott had done it. Was doing it with Emma. He certainly seemed to have no qualms about kicking me out of his head, seemed to have no problems with my suspicious glances shot his way, my silent anger. So why shouldn't I do the same? All these years, the same siren song had been calling to me. The same spark had brushed between us. And I, I had ignored it. I'd turned my head. I'd said no. I'd said no so many times when I'd wanted to say yes, give in, be pulled in by the tide and drown with him. Logan.

Logan. God, him of all people turning me away. I could feel my face and neck burn just thinking about it. The one time I didn't have the strength to say no anymore, and he says it instead. I felt the burning spread to my chest. I thought of the phone call. No matter what he says when he's sober, no matter how noble he wants to be, I know what I mean to him.

Everything.

When the mansion was in a state of quiet, a static psychic snow of dreaming minds, I stepped outside.

I took the familiar trail over the hill and onto the small cliff that overlooked the point where the forest grew dense. It was dark, but the inky black was illuminated by moonlight. As the warm glow from the mansion faded behind me I walked on, sinking deeper into the night.

My mind led me to the same place, the same clearing, two miles out.

I knew he was there before I saw him. All I could see was the dark outline of a man, but the posture was unmistakable. He was on his haunches, staring intently at something through the trees too far away for me to see. My hand accidentally brushed against a branch in the dark and he immediately stood up and turned in one fluid movement to face me. I saw his fist instinctively clench, but his claws remained sheathed.

"Jeannie?" he asked, rather curiously, his face obscured by the dark.

Suddenly, seeing him there in the flesh, hearing his voice, made it too real. All plans of seduction flew out of my head. I felt myself blushing, awkward. He took a step towards me and my heartbeat jumped. What was I doing?

"You all right darlin'?" he asked, his tone still curious.

"Yes, I – " I stammered, trying to regain my composure. I pulled my hair back from my face, looking away from him. "I—couldn't sleep," I finished lamely.

Logan chuckled. "Well ya came to the right place. Wolverine in the middle of the woods, doesn't get more exciting than this."

"Guess not," I said, forcing a short laugh. In the soft light, I could see that he was shirtless and a sudden wave of arousal swept through me so strongly that my knees felt weak.

"You're shaking," he said, and I felt his eyes glide quickly over me like a predator.

"Somethin' wrong?"

"I'm cold," I lied, and to my horror and amazement, the words came out sounding low and seductive. I could feel him so close to me, radiating warmth. He gave me an odd look.

"Jeannie, it's 85 degrees out here, you gotta be kiddin' me."

"Warm me up," I said, moving in. It didn't feel real, I didn't feel in control of my body, I just knew that I was moving towards him, leaning into him. I placed my hands over his heavily muscled shoulders and felt a light shiver run through him.

"Jean," he said, a sharp twinge entering his tone. But he hadn't moved away. He was standing still, trying to figure me out.

"What're you doing darlin'?" His voice was lower, almost a soft growl. "I mean, what're you really doing?"

"I know what you want," I said. Suddenly finding the courage to abandon all pretense, I pressed my body against his, my breasts against his chest, my hips against his. "I know," I whispered, looking pleadingly up at him, " I want it too, Logan. Just once. It's been so long and..."

It tried to push closer, but it was like touching a wall made of stone—his whole body was stiff and I could feel the agitation rolling off his mind in waves.

"Jean, stop," he said roughly, and his tone of voice shocked me. I looked into his face and I saw an expression of anger, made harsh by the deep shadows.

"Look, Jeannie," he growled. "I thought we were on the same page with this. It won't work. We've agreed." He turned his back to me. "You have a_ husband_. You have Scott."

He turned again to face me, his body language restless, pacing. "You know where we stand. Why are you doing this to me now?"

He stopped in his tracks and looked me straight in the eyes, the keen suspicion shining through. I looked away, confused and flustered. It hit me. He didn't trust me. He thought this was a trick.

"Am I some little game a yours Jeannie, 'cause you got bored?" He asked, his eyes flashing. "'Cause you know how I feel. You've always known how I felt."

"Then why won't you let me..?" I asked, moving towards him. He backed away as if my very presence burned him.

"It ain't right. This isn't…you're not thinkin' straight Jean, and I don't want to be the one to take advantage. I thought I made it clear last time. I know where I stand, I ain't as stupid you think. I know I'm just some goddamn pawn in this thing you've got going on between you an' Emma and _him_."

His voice was unmistakably bitter and he clenched his fists so tightly I winced, expecting to hear the metallic snikt of his claws, but it never happened. He just stood there, like a man trapped.

I moved forward to try and touch him again, but he grabbed both hands by my wrists, hard enough to hurt. I felt a little spike of fear shoot through me but I stood my ground.

"It's not a game Logan," I said indignantly, struggling against him.

"So what if it doesn't work, so what if we—if we aren't supposed to-- I don't care!" I said loudly enough I heard my voice echo off the trees. "I want this. I don't need you to feel sorry for me, or look after me, I know what I want!"

"You can't deny me!" I blurted out, and I saw his jaw tighten.

We stood mere inches apart, our eyes locked. Slowly, he released his grip on my wrists.

"You can smell it on me, can't you Logan? You know I'm not lying. You know exactly what I came here for. If you didn't want it too, you'd be gone by now."

His eyes flickered down. Caught. I had the upper hand, momentarily.

I moved in again and he didn't stop me. I ran my hands down his chest, against his stomach. His head angled down only so slightly and I felt his breath, hot against my ear. I knew he was scenting me, breathing me in, knew it was breaking down his defenses. I pressed my face against his neck, feeling his heat and whispered, "Don't make me beg, Logan."

I could feel his body taut underneath my hands. He was straining, energy humming in his bones.

"Please," I whispered, so quietly I could barely hear myself. I could feel his pulse, strong and alive. I angled my head slightly so that my lips were against his skin, just barely brushing his neck. "I want it. I want you. Just for tonight, that's all, I promise."

"Jeannie," he said, his voice shaking, "Don't. You don't know what you're askin' for darlin' and I can't… I can't stop myself. You don't know what you do to me, Jean,"

The last part turned into a plea. His hands came up to tangle in my hair, smoothing their way down my back, and I could tell he was using all his strength to be gentle, hold back. I could feel it. He was cracking, trying to be the honorable one, but he knew that in the end he was going to lose. The sense of power made me dizzy, and I wondered how well he could sense my arousal, how far it would push him over the edge.

So I decided to throw in my hand, give him no doubt as to my intentions. Without hesitation, I took my shirt by the hem and pulled it up over my head. I unhooked my bra and threw it aside. I was breathing so hard, my face was flushed, and all I wanted to do was tease him enough that he'd break free, run for me, take me down with him.

"Don't argue with me, Logan. I want you, now." I said to him in a low, serious tone. We were both breathing quickly.

"Fuck me Logan."

I saw his whole body shift, his muscles tensing.

"Jean," he growled, low and dangerous. It sent a shiver all the way down my spine. Yes, this is what I wanted out of him. The animal. Something deep and primal that had always pulled me to him. The thing that terrified me, fascinated me. I was in its grip now, and too caught up to back down.

"Logan…," I hissed, and I could feel the Phoenix prickling just underneath my skin, lightening behind my eyes. "Now."

In a movement so quick and graceful I didn't even see it happen, his hot mouth was on mine. I felt his rough hand come up and cup my breast as he effortlessly lifted me, pressing my back against a tree and pinning me there.

I was gasping, shocked, this assault on my senses. It was everything I wanted and more, coming at me so fast I could hardly stand it. I kissed him back savagely, mindlessly, twisting both my hands in his hair as he bit me gently on the neck, little pinpricks on my skin. I could feel the heavy bulge in his jeans grinding against my thigh and I tried to free one of my hands to struggle with the zipper. This was better than I had ever even imagined.

_And I have imagined it,_ I thought at him. I got a sudden flash of primal desire on his end, a hot and thick current of heat directed towards me.

"So've I," he growled at me huskily.

For a moment I saw myself through his eyes, the pure lust and instinct coursing through his body. He thrust his tongue into my mouth, drowning me in sensation. Tangled together, hands and mouths moving, I urgently tried to get my own pants off, but they were my uniform pants, tight leather, and I only succeeded in lifting one bare leg up against his hip. I finally managed to kick them off, tossing them aside.

_He's going to fuck just like he fights_, I thought dizzily, the thought running a pleasurable spark through my body. It was the way he moved that was so familiar to me, the same way he was in combat, the assured swift and graceful gestures. It never occurred to me that same motion and control would apply to sex as well and it turned me on beyond belief. I dug my fingernails into his biceps, repeating one thought in my mind. _Yes Logan, yes._

Effortlessly, he took me in one arm and lay me down against the ground. I realized we were both fully naked, his hot skin against mine. I felt the soft grass press into my back and then his weight as he lay over me. I gasped and arched towards his touch, locking my legs around his waist. I could tell I was driving him wild, that he was trying to be controlled but his impatience was burning through. He was impossibly hard, pressed up against my stomach and a small part of me couldn't help but wonder _is this going to hurt?_

I reached up and pushed one hand into his hair, jet black and thick, god I'd wanted to feel it like this for so long… and I pulled his face down to mine, let him kiss me deeply. Sin had never tasted so sweet and for a second I couldn't believe I'd held back all these years. All I could think was _yes yes yes_. which I was sure I was projecting loud enough for him and anyone within a mile radius to hear. But he paused there, against me, and I could feel his entire body trembling, all that power, all that dangerous coiled strength and intensity being held still by pure force of will.

"Logan," I said against his ear, "Inside me…ohhh… I need you.."

"Jeannie," he said, and it turned into a low growl that sent shivers up and down my entire body. I'd never felt so turned on in my life, and knowing he was literally hanging by a thread made it doubly arousing.

"Logan, please, now!" I said urgently, voice somewhere between a moan and a whisper, arching against his body running my nails down his back.

"Jean," he gasped raggedly, and I could tell his entire face was contorting. "Jean, I can't…hold back…If we do this… god…I've wanted this for so long…" I could feel the intense strain and anguish in his voice and it drove me to even greater heights. His efforts were admirable, but he against me they were nothing, and I knew it. And I loved it.

I could sense it, feel it--Logan wanted it so bad he was half delirious, but he couldn't allow himself the pleasure without my permission. I found it ludicrously touching, but really I didn't care about anything at that moment except him.

"Yes," I whispered, eyes focusing on him so that he'd see that I was right there with him, feeling, tasting, completely and utterly aware. "Don't stop. I want this. I want it just like this. Do it."

I saw something black and fierce glint in his eyes as he broke.

We were both suddenly frantic, desperately wild. It was like whatever reservations we'd had were set free and now it was down to this, the consuming passion, the moment I had waited for, what felt like all my life.

* * *

When it was over, both of us were breathing hard, gasping, our bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Everything had happened so quickly, so intensely… my body had reacted so violently that my mind hadn't caught up yet.

I saw the possessive, tender look in his eyes. "Mine," he growled softly. Leaning his head forward to deeply breathe in the scent of my neck, nip me gently, move his lips there. I realized that I had been crying, tears running down my face, and the realization shocked me as I wiped them away.

For a few seconds we both just breathed, trying to fade back into reality. My entire world was simply sensation—the warmth and weight of Logan against me, his heat, the scratchiness of his chest hair pressing against the tender skin of my breasts, the dampness of the grass against my skin—I felt so overwhelmingly alive, so aware of every little thing.

"Jesus Christ," Logan said softly, his body still wrapped against mine. I looked at him with helpless eyes and nodded mutely.

It was only a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. I wanted to lie there with him, to fall asleep protected, with his warmth around me. Somehow that idea felt so right. But I couldn't. There were so many reasons why I couldn't, and then I knew what I had to do, now that it was done.

I had to forget this.

I had to leave, and I had to do it now, while I still could.

"I—I have to go Logan," I stammered, pushing myself away from him, away from his warmth. I could feel his arms reluctantly move to let me up.

It was just a dream. It was just a fantasy. It was never meant to be real.

Oh god had it really just happened? Was I really here?

Disengaging myself from the inviting heat of his body, I stumbled to my feet and walked naked, my feet padding against the dirt and rocks as I went to pick up my scattered clothes.

It was just a fantasy, something I fulfilled and now I could move on.

Right?

In a daze, I gathered my torn shirt and my ripped uniform pants. I realized I had lost a shoe and looked around, but my head felt like it was floating away.

"I love you Jeannie," I heard softly.

I looked back to Wolverine, but where he had been crouched, watching me, he was gone.

I staggered back to the mansion a complete wreck. I honestly don't even know how I made it, more so how I made it without anyone seeing me, because the game would have been up. I was in no condition to make up some brilliant lie, it was all I could do to keep my legs moving. I was alternately sobbing and laughing, and my body felt like it was on fire. Everywhere, everything, I was remembering it, psychic video, playing through my head, his rough hands, his hot mouth, the amazing feeling of being filled by him, possessed by him, consuming each other…I'd never felt, never done anything like that before.

I slipped inside and got in the shower. With the glass door closed, I slid down the shower wall and sat, letting the warm water hit my face like staccato raindrops. I spent a few minutes just trying to breath, pulling all my pieces back together. I washed my hair and saw a leaf float down the drain. I toweled off and climbed into bed with Scott.


	3. Breaking Points

SUMMARY: Jean's gotten what she wanted—but now that she's started, can just walk away? Will her reluctance to do just that threaten all the relationships and ties she's spent her life making? Warning, angst ahead!

* * *

Chapter 3: Breaking Points

* * *

I only lasted three days and then I was back again.

It was wordless, we didn't even say hello, he just saw me and took me into his arms.

We made love on the grass, my back pressing into the twigs and leaves, moving together in fluid, silent motion, like a beautiful and twisted ballet. When I finally opened my eyes to the world I saw him kneeling over me, naked, with a cheeky grin on his face. _You got no idea how long I've been wantin' to do that_, he thought at me.

I pushed him back down on the ground, watched the beautiful feral pleasure suddenly take over his face, the undisguised fall over the edge, the way he suddenly frantically grabbed me, forgetting his gentleness and caution, and taking me the way he wanted to.

He loved to hold me afterwards, to breathe me in. I would let him, for a few minutes, the most precious minutes these days, and then I would leave.

He would always follow me with the same words, "I love you Jeannie."

I was always walking away when he said it, and I was glad my back was turned and my psychic shields were up because that way he couldn't see me crying.

* * *

It all started to unravel because I couldn't stop. It wasn't part of my plan. This was supposed to be a one time affair, the one dalliance to satisfy the lingering craving I'd always felt right there beneath the surface, but in a very short amount of time I felt hopelessly addicted.

The next night, I found myself out in the field, moaning as Logan was on top of me, against me, kissing my neck, licking down my shoulder, tasting my mouth like a delicacy, running his fingers up and down my thighs, drawing it out, making the sex slow and agonizing and so intense I felt us both beginning to burn. I heard his breath catch in a sob, saying my name, his hands cradling my face.

I loved the expression on his face, expressions I never saw in the daylight. He was always so guarded, but not here. Not with me. The pleasure and pain mingling, and then the split second of utter vulnerability as he shuddered and said my name, his heavily muscled shoulders tensing, then releasing. I relished those moments, daydreamed about them, thought about them all day long as I carried on through the normal, dreary day.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he'd murmur to me afterwards as I lay against him, stealing his warmth. "I want to do this with you forever. Jeannie, you set me on fire,"

I wanted it forever too, but I couldn't say it. I just kept coming back, until every week turned into every night and I was trying to hide bruises—his thumbprint on my hip, his smell on my skin, the dazed look I wore everywhere as the pleasure slowly dissipated in my body.

I swore that it was over, that I quit. And then, the next night, I'd come back.

I knew he loved it when I said his name out loud, I could feel the satisfaction radiating from him. Afterwards he would always kiss me so slowly, so deeply that I felt dizzy.

It happened so fast, so strangely, so secretively that I felt like I was two separate people, living two separate lives.

I was falling so in love with him, and at the same time I was falling apart.

I couldn't believe that no one seemed to notice it, since I felt like I was walking around with a big sign that said, "JUST HAD SEX WITH LOGAN!" around my neck. I could barely concentrate enough to speak normally in classes, I would just be thinking eagerly about what would happen when midnight came around.

I stopped sleeping with Scott altogether—I was afraid to, afraid that if I let him close to me the images, the feelings, would come spilling out like a broken dam and he'd see it all. He didn't say anything about it. I wondered if part of him was relieved he didn't have to pretend anymore.

In the house, Logan and I avoided each other like the plague. He would see me and quickly turn the corner, eyes downcast, expression a scowl.

And I, I was constantly thinking of a lie to tell Scott when we awoke to find me gone. I was hungry. I was on a walk. I felt sick. I'd gotten up to go to the bathroom. He couldn't have believed it—if he'd been paying attention or cared. He wasn't, he didn't, and that's how things between us stayed.

* * *

I knew it wouldn't last.

The night before, Logan had made love to me, and afterwards he stroked my hair and we just looked in each other's eyes. He whispered my name and it sounded so sad that I reached forward and kissed him on the lips.

It was a slow kiss, as I let my tongue feel its way around his fangs and breathed in the sweet smell of our sweat. The way he kissed me—God, it made me weak. His whole body was fully trained on me, all his attention and focus poured into moving against my lips, stroking me with his tongue. I'd never been kissed like that before and I gave myself up to it, let the intensity wipe my mind clean until the whole universe was reduced to just him and me.

He pulled back and kissed me on the face again, silently, stubble scratching my cheek.

And then I almost said it. In my mind, _Logan I love you_ was clear. But the words choked in my throat.

"Logan I…."

He was holding me against him, and I loved how solid he was, how the ridges of his muscles stood out in the low light, how his heat seemed to bathe me in a warm, pleasurable cocoon_. I love you,_ I wanted to say. _You have me. I am yours, completely. I can't stop. I can't deny this anymore. You and me, Wolverine and Phoenix, we were always made to fit together like this and I understand now. _

_Logan, I'm yours._

I said nothing.

I couldn't finish the sentence and he just looked at me with unreadable eyes, and then turned away, running his hands down the small of my back, through my hair, feeling the smooth skin and brushing the red strands out of my eyes.

"Jeannie, it's almost light out. You should go."

I tried to look him in the eye and he refused. He looked down. He looked anywhere but at my face, and at that moment the shame, the guilt, the cowardice I felt overwhelmed me. I was disgusted with myself, hopeless.

That time I didn't even bother to hide my tears as I picked up my tattered clothes and began the now familiar walk back to the mansion. I looked back, my face streaked with salt and I saw him standing there in the beginning of the dawn light, head hanging, arms dangling at his sides, a man defeated.

He knew he couldn't win this. He'd always known. He loved me anyway.

That next day we practically stayed on opposite sides of the mansion, avoiding any chance social encounters. That night I didn't come. I couldn't face him. I knew that I had pushed too far at my own game, and now it was me who was about to lose. I'd taken a gamble and fallen in love with a man who was not my husband, a man who was part animal, part wild, and all I wanted to do was give all of myself to him, to be with him really, not just under cover of night. I couldn't. Everything I'd ever learned, all the rules, said I couldn't. I couldn't do it. I felt like I'd been ripped in half. I felt so hollow.

I stayed away.

Sometimes at night after Scott was asleep, I hid my behind my psy-shields and I thought about it and burned. I remembered like vivid footprints, his hands all over my body, the way he smelled, the way our minds bled together when the pleasure got too intense and it would set us both off. But I could never get the last time out of my head, those sad eyes as he looked at me, his soul bare, and I'd turned away.

And still, I stayed away.


	4. A Small Problem

SUMMARY: It's the reason why abstinance only education doesn't work, the reason why they pull you aside in 8th grade gym class, and the reason Juno was so popular! Hmmm, what could it be?

* * *

Chapter 4: A Small Problem

* * *

A few mornings later I'd woken up early and decided to get some coffee. I headed into the kitchen, and suddenly a wave of nausea swept me. I was so surprised by it I didn't even have time to move, I leaned forward over the sink and retched. I gagged once or twice, then spit, putting a hand against my chest as a sudden wave of dizziness swept though me.

I looked to my right and saw that Scott was standing in one entryway of the kitchen, holding a cup of Colombian and looking concerned.

"Honey..?" he asked in a worried voice.

I was about to placate him when I looked to my left and saw Logan standing at the other entrance, and he looked white as a sheet. That made me nauseous all over again and, in what could not have been my proudest moment, I leaned over and puked up most of what I'd eaten last night. Cool whip. Thanks Emma.

Shaking, I turned on the faucet and made a careful point of not looking at Logan.

"Oh shit," I heard him say.

"What?" Scott asked.

"Oh shit I uh… left…I left the toaster on last night," Logan said, certifying him as the world's worst liar. Then he cleared his throat and stared intently at his boots.

"Are you okay Jean?" Scott asked, coming up to rub my back. "Do you need a doctor?"

_Yeah, a head doctor,_ I thought as I stared into the swirling water. _What the hell have I done? What have I been doing? Oh god, let this please not be what I think it is._

I stood there seriously wanting to die, because somehow I knew it. I'm not sure how, but I knew right then and there what it was. If there had been any way to dig a psychic hole in the ground and just curl up and die in it, I would have. As it was, I was just trying to stay conscious and keep a handle on the situation.

I think that Logan was literally frozen in place unable to move, and I felt the bile in my stomach rise again as we both began to think the same thing. Oh god.

"I'm all right," I said hastily, ignoring Logan and turning to Scott, trying to put a cheerful tone into my voice. "I just… it must be the flu."

"Are you sure?" Scott asked, then peered around me and said, "Logan, do you need something in here? Is there a reason you're just standing there watching my wife get sick?"

"Uh, I uh--beer me, Scotty," Logan said with such practiced nonchalance that I wanted to scream.

"I'm fine Scott, really," I assured my husband, summoning the will to drink a glass of water and hold it up. "See, fine, it's probably just a 24 hour bug."

* * *

The moment I'd been dreading happened an hour later.

Logan cornered me in the hallway. There was no one around and suddenly he was there, his presence, familiar and arousing because I'd associated it with our trysts in the woods.

"Jeannie,"

"Not now Logan," I said, pushing him away and quickly continuing down the hallway. I knew it was a futile attempt to escape, but I couldn't face this. Not now.

He grabbed my hand and I threw it off. In three quick steps he had put an arm on either side of me and I was forced to look at him as I stood, shaking.

"You're pregnant," he said, matter-of-factly. The words made my mouth go dry and I felt like I had swallowed cotton. I used both hands to try and shove him away, to no avail.

"No I'm not," I said, and attempted to duck out of his grasp. He pulled his arms in, pinning me. I wanted to slap the calm expression off his face.

"Yeah, you are," he said, raising an eyebrow at me.

"You don't know that," I said angrily, wiping at my eyes, cursing my damn tearful emotional state and looking at him defiantly. He didn't seem mad, more, apologetic.

"Yes I do," He said in an almost curious tone of voice –_ he's not panicked! Of course he's not panicked, it's not him that's—oh god. How is this happening to me? All these years, it's never happened, and now--_

"You smell different, I can tell. I thought it might be…that… but until now I didn't know for sure…" Logan trailed off, but his tone of voice was casual. He was talking as nonchalantly as if we'd been having a conversation about toast. "Besides, it's been more'n a month since..."

"Wait--you can smell it?" I nearly screamed in disbelief. And then, eyes narrowing, "You keep track of my cycles? What kind of sick fucking joke is—"

"Shhh!" Logan hissed, "Unless you want the whole goddamn mansion to find out about this."

"You knew and you didn't tell me!" I seethed at him. I don't think I've ever hated a man as much as I did with Logan at that moment. I wanted nothing more than to psychically gut him, rip out his heart and let him feel the pain and confusion that had been suddenly thrown onto my shoulders.

But then he said the words that hit me in the chest, knocked the wind out of me.

"Jeannie, it's our baby," he said, and his voice held wonder.

Hearing those words out loud made my head spin, made me want to shout for joy and throw up all at once. Oh, god, no. It was the right thing at the wrong time. It was such a big mess I couldn't even begin to wrap my head around it.

"You mean it's MY baby Logan, and… shit… oh my god, I'm pregnant. Oh fuck. How could we… how could I let this happen?"

I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate, felt the precious control I've cultivated for so long begin to slip through my fingers as my life unraveled right before my eyes. I'd relied on that control, my responsibility, for so long. How could this be happening to me? My hands were shaking and I felt faint.

"Hey," Logan said softly, "Calm down. It'll be okay. It's my fault too. I thought you were… ya know… on somethin' or we would've used uh .. ya know…it's me too."

"I AM on something!" I whispered loudly at him, trying to control my voice. "I've been on something since I was seventeen! This never happened, never! And then YOU!"

I balled my hands into fists, feeling my nails cut into my palms almost hard enough to break the skin. "YOU Logan! God, with your … crazy fucking regenerating sperm or whatever you have… this is all your fault!"

Logan started chuckling and I was so angry that I couldn't even see straight. In what could only be later explained as a long awaited explosion of bottled anger, I telekinetically picked up him straight off the ground and hurled him against the nearest wall. He gave a startled yell as he flew. He fell gracelessly with a crash that the whole mansion probably heard, but at that point I was well beyond caring. I was beyond everything at that point.

Before he could recover I pinned him against the wall with my mind.

"This isn't fucking funny." I said to him darkly, and I felt the Phoenix flare up beneath the surface pushing at the back of my mind.

His expression changed and I could see real contrition in his eyes. And pain. I think I'd dislocated his shoulder. "Jeannie, baby, I'm sorry, look, it's just that… I love you and …"

"A-hem."

A small cough broke my concentration and Wolverine fell off the wall, landing with a thump on the floor. We both looked over to see Hank standing in the hallway.

"Excuse me," he said, blushing so deeply under his blue that I thought his face was going to burn off. "Excuse me. I didn't mean to interrupt. I didn't mean to bother, I just—"

Logan and I looked at each other.

"I was simply trying to get to the—to the lab, I—you see, I" he stopped, unable to continue.

"What did you hear Hank?" Logan demanded, striding up and adopting a menacing expression.

"I uh.. you see.." Hank said, so painfully awkward I almost felt sorry for him, "As it is, I don't believe it's really my business to delve into this kind of …"

"Hank," Logan said hoarsely, a dark glowering look on his brow that would've felled a softer man, "Tell me what ya heard, and tell me now."

At the same time Logan said this he took the opportunity to grab his own shoulder and pop it audibly back into place, making McCoy flinch.

"I uh, well I," Hank said, his voice getting progressively quieter, "It appears as if you, Jean, are…carrying…Logan's…child…or so it seems."

Upon saying these words Hank wrung his hands so desperately and blushed so brightly that I was pretty sure he was going to collapse.

"Okay," Logan said thoughtfully, "Damage control. Jean, can you erase his mind?"

"Excuse me!" Hank said loudly, "I'd rather not!"

"No," I said, feeling my heart sink. "No. This is…this has gone on for too long."

I felt the tension ebbing away, leaving me as it slowly dawned on me, what I was going to have to do. I gave a deep and shuddering sigh before I spoke.

"This is ridiculous and it's my fault. All of it. Hank, I'm sorry. I don't know who I am anymore, I don't know how this happened… but people deserve to know. Scott deserves to know. Logan, you deserve to know."

Hank stood there awkwardly and held his large blue paws up in a 'no apology needed,' gesture. I wasn't sure he had the power of speech back yet.

"You want me ta know what?" Logan asked suspiciously, staring at me with the raw and vulnerable face of a man who has been hurt and broken so many times he knows nothing else. I hated to see it. I hated myself. It's the last time, I thought to myself, the last time I'll ever see you look at me like that Logan. Like you're expecting me to cut your heart out and hand it to you.

No more. It's time to be brave, Jean.

"I love you Logan," I said softly. "I'm in love with you. I should've said it sooner. I should've done this the right way, and instead…"

I hung my head. I put my hands up to my face.

"Oh god, I messed it up, and now I don't know what to do," I said, my voice finally breaking.

Instantly, large arms closed around me, embraced me. This time I didn't back away, I let myself be comforted, let my head rest against his shoulder. Breathed in the heady smell of Logan, sweet and musky and wild and kind of smoky. It was good. It felt good. It felt so right, like I belonged.

"I want this Jeannie," he said, "You don't have to be so upset sweetheart. I mean, it's your choice, what you do, but there's nothing in the world I'd rather want than to be with you, have kids, be a…be a family…all of it Jean, it's only you. I swear ta god, I been around a long time, longer than even I know, and it's only ever been you."

His voice was a low rumble against my ear, his embrace complete.

"I know I've had my share a' women in life, Jean, but out of everyone I've ever met, I've never loved somebody the way I love you. And that's why I couldn't say no darlin', I could never say no to you."

It was then I realized the final piece to the puzzle, finally recognized the mystery that was Logan. I'd mistaken it all along. See, Scott…Scott loved me out of choice.

Logan…Logan loved me because he knew no other way. He loved me like a man, but he loved me like an animal too, with the kind of total unwavering loyalty most people were totally incapable of comprehending, never mind bestowing on another.

All these years he hadn't been needling Scott just to get his kicks (although I'm sure he didn't mind that part of it), but really, underneath, it was just because his love for me was a part of him, as imprinted and tangible as his claws or his senses. It was always there, regardless of if he killed or was killed, if he left, if he stayed, it was always there.

It would always be there. I could refuse him, deny him, reject him, and it would change nothing. He loved me as if it was in his very genes. Maybe it was.

I closed my eyes, letting the world slide away so that for a moment, I could believe it. I thought of that beautiful life, of a man who worshipped the fierce part of me, the dark parts of me, all parts of me…and then it all melted away like a thin kaleidoscope of colors.

"A-hem," came the small utterance.

We both turned and looked at Hank, annoyed.

"I'll just be going now," he said immediately, turned on his heel and practically ran down the hallway.

"Secret's out darlin'," Logan said. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," I said quietly.

"Just know whatever you do, I'm behind ya a hundred percent, okay?"

"I know," I said, looking up into his face. I did know.

"I been missin' you, ya know" Logan said, looking down at me, his eyes dark and his voice low. A little shiver crept over me and I almost cracked a smile.

"Logan it's only been five days since we…"

"Jeannie, I always want you," he said in a husky tone, and I knew he meant it.

I realized that I had subconsciously put my hand over my belly. Part of me wanted to pull him into a room, make love to him in the daylight, run to the top of the staircase and tell the world I loved him. But I had already made a big enough mess. From now on, I was going to to do this the right way.

The right way.

I pulled back.

"I have to tell Scott," I said, and for the first time, saying the words out loud, I felt small traces of guilt lace through my words. "It's been too long. He needs to know."

Logan nodded, "You gonna be all right alone?"

I sighed deeply. "No, but… it's something I have to do by myself."

He bowed his head. "I understand…darlin' if you ever need me…"

He paused and raised one eyebrow in a devilish look, "For anything…"

"You've really done enough for now Logan, thanks," I said, but then I found myself smiling. I felt like nothing would ever be the same again, and that maybe, just maybe, I was all right with that.


	5. The Confession

SUMMARY: Jean's about to learn the hard way that some secrets can be bad for your teammates' health…

* * *

Chapter 5: Confession

* * *

Scott came home.

Saying those words in my head makes me cringe, even now.

While he'd been gone, I managed to indulge myself in a little fantasy world with Logan. I'd rid Scott from my head, scrubbed him out, chased his ghosts from my attic, allowed myself to enjoy some of the happiness I'd been denied for so long.

But then he stepped off the X-Jet, greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and a, "Hello, wife," and reality fell crashing down around me like a thousand pieces of concrete.

What I'd done suddenly hit home with the force of an avalanche. It stole the breath from my lungs. It pounded in my head. It was all I could do to appear outwardly calm, but my hands were trembling.

No matter what the emotional state between Scott and I was...legally, and in the eyes of the team, he was still my husband. I'd cheated on him.

I'd cheated on him. And not just once. I was aware that I had fully, completely, and knowingly betrayed the faith of our union.

Not only had I cheated on him, I was carrying Logan's child. I couldn't even begin to tell you the emotions that washed over and threatened to drown me when all these revelations started to sink in. I knew how terrible all of it sounded. I knew I sounded like a harlot, a liar.

I guess it was partly true. I guess In some ways I was those things. But I had still had my pride, and it told me what I really knew-- that our marriage had been heading for disaster for some time now, and although this was the worst way I could've possibly ended it, it was an inevitable and foregone conclusion.

I also knew when these revelations came to light, I would be called names and worse. I would have to suffer whispers, sideways glances. I would have to endure the social punishment brought upon me by all the staff and students at the mansion. All these years I'd had the reputation of a saint, as someone abiding and steadfast. In their eyes, I was a wife, not a person. All these years the Phoenix had been struggling to break through. It struggled to reveal me, let me be the woman I really was. I really am.

Now here it was, here was reality facing me at last.

There was no denying it and no avoiding it. There was no other language to articulate it. Emma or no Emma, I had really fucked this up. It was up to me to fix it again.

I stood in the hangar, nervously playing with my wedding band. I'd lost weight in the last week from being so sick, and it was getting looser. I turned it around and around my finger as I watched X-Jet gracefully land and settle. It's sleek shell cracked open to let down a set of stairs. I swallowed hard.

When Scott came down from the plane and greeted me, he stepped back and took a look at me, head to toe. I must've looked terrible. Aside from the morning sickness that had begun greeting me on a daily basis, I felt like I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Scott's a smart man, and he knew immediately something was wrong. That wasn't the bad part. The awful part was his reaction.

It was cold and calculated.

He took one look at my pale face and said, "We can talk about it after dinner Jean. I need to shower."

I spent the next half hour literally being sick.

Wolverine was kind enough to kneel beside me and hold back my hair as I emptied my stomach, but he was so adamant about me going to see Dr. McCoy that I finally kicked him out of the bathroom for some privacy. It wasn't the physical sickness that was burdening me. It was the emotional kind.

Of course, it was Logan's bathroom, Scott was in ours, showering away, unaware that I was about to take our lives and turn them upside down.

I'd been living in Logan's room for the past couple of days, and in the drunken haze of lust, sex, and the giddiness of new love I'd managed to completely whitewash over the fact that Scott was coming back. Then, suddenly, it was Wednesday. There was no avoiding it now.

"Jeannie, you okay in there?" came Logan's worried voice.

"I'm fine Logan," I lied, lying against the wall, ashen faced, staring listlessly at the toilet.

"Are ya sure you don't want me to come along an' help you smooth things over with Summers?"

"YES!" I yelled adamantly through the door. "I don't call a brawl to the death 'smoothing things over' the same way you do."

There was a pause as I heard him chuckle. Then, "Jean, are ya sure, I'm worried about you, y-"

"Logan, leave me alone!" I yelled at him and then, right on time, puked. I choked, staring down at the bowl, wondering if my life could feel any lower than it did at this very moment. "Uggghh," groaned, reaching and patting blindly at the counter for my toothbrush for the umpteenth time.

I could hear Logan pacing outside the door. I knew it drove him crazy to see me in pain and yet be helpless to stop it. I wished there was something he could do, something I could do, something anyone could do, but the confrontation was unavoidable. My head was pounding.

Then, without warning, I heard a voice. Scott's voice. It was polite, detatched, uninterested.

"Logan, have you seen Jean?"

My blood ran cold.

There was a pause, silence.

"Yeah," Logan said reluctantly, his voice muffled through the door. "She's in there. She ain't feelin' too good right now."

That was the understatement of the century.

I heard footsteps coming towards me.

I managed to stand up, and I tried to straighten out my uniform, smooth down my hair. It was useless. I looked awful, and nothing was going to fix it until I got this off my chest. And possibly until I got out of my first trimester so this damn nausea would go away, it wasn't helping things.

"Jean?" I heard. His voice was so familiar, so normal. "Are you in there?"

It was just me, facing the white door of Logan's bathroom. I started at the cracked paint, parts of the wood visible underneath. It was the only protection between me, Scott, and the truth.

With a deep breath, I put my hand on the knob. It turned with a creak.

I opened the door.

"Scott," I said.

There he stood, hands hanging by his sides. He stared at me. His posture was stiff. His face was unreadable.

I remember the way I used to look at him. Even with his visor on, his face had held so much for me-love, trust-things I hadn't seen in a long time. Now, standing there, face to face, I felt the utter lack of connection. All those things that were there, gone. Missing. It was like staring at a stranger.

"Jesus Jean, you look terrible. What happened?" Scott asked, and the concern in his voice sounded forced, false. He put a hand out to touch my shoulder.

I instinctively jerked away from his touch, and he let his hand drop, furrowing his brow.

"Okay," he said slowly. "Let's go to our room where we can talk about this."

"No," I said, my voice shaking a little, and coming out hoarse. "I want to do this here."

I looked beyond Scott, to the dark figure still standing in the doorway.

"Logan, get out."

Reluctantly, Logan slunk away from the doorframe, obviously hesistant to leave.

*I'll be fine* I thought at him crossly. *Stop worrying about me so much, I can handle myself.*

I used my TK to push the door closed. It shut with a click, and then I went and sat down on the edge of Logan's bed. About three hours earlier he'd had me bent over the edge of it doing things that Scott would've blushed even hearing about, but I quickly blocked that thought as he followed me over and sat down. Scott still had some access to my mind, and I was pretty sure that accidentally projecting x-rated images of what I'd done with his teammate and rival wasn't the best way to break the news.

The irony wasn't lost on me, that I was breaking up with my husband while sitting on Logan's bed. In a sick and twisted way it seemed somewhat appropriate. This is what it's come to, I thought. This is it.

Was there ever another way it could've ended? A better way?

I didn't know. Too late now.

There was a silence between us. Despite the loss of love, there still remained a familiarity, a sort of kinship simply because we knew each other too well.

I could see Scott's jaw tighten and then he took a deep breath.

"You slept with Logan," he said simply.

I instantly lowered my head, closed my eyes. Hearing the words out loud stung me. I fought for my voice, swallowed.

"Yes," I said.

"And you think I've been sleeping with Emma."

My eyes flashed open and I looked at him, hard. He was still sitting, expressionless and motionless.

"Have you?" I asked.

He didn't answer. Instead he put his head in his hands and ran his fingers roughly through his hair.

"It's over, isn't it?" He asked, turning to me, and for the first time I heard a trace of emotion in his voice, a trace of sadness. "We're over. It's time to admit it before we hurt each other even more than this."

Hearing that, a hint that he still had any feelings at all for me, the woman he once said he'd once said he'd give the world for, the woman he said 'I do' to all those years ago, made me break down in tears. My vision suddenly blurred, my eyelashes wet. He'd known. He'd known and he'd been prepared for this all along. No wonder he'd seemed so calm.

I couldn't believe that all of it- all of us -the years of cautious flirting, the dating, the wedding, our life together. The shared smiles, the jokes. The late night glasses of wine. The missions. The winks in the danger room. The phone conversations. Our life. All of it had boiled down into a five minute conversation. It seemed so wrong somehow. It seemed so cold.

"I'm so sorry Scott," I said, and in that moment I really meant it. I started to cry, tears leaking out the corners of my eyes and running down my face. "I'm so sorry. To you. To us. How did this happen?"

He didn't say anything for a minute, and he was still refusing to look at me.

"I don't know," He said evenly. "People change. People fall in love, people fall out of love."

I had to bite my lip almost hard enough to bleed before I worked out the courage to say the second part.

"There's...there's...more. There's more I haven't...I haven't told you," I said in a faltering voice.

"What?" Scott asked, and this time he sounded genuinely surprised. I guess he'd known as well as I did that our marriage was dying, and since we were telepathically connected, even the best concealed affair still had afterthoughts that bled through.

In a way, I was kind of hoping he'd have guessed what was coming next too, but it was obvious he hadn't. Would he take it with the same nonchalance he'd just ended our marriage with?

"I...I...I'm," I said, unable to get the word out.

I had his full attention now. I guess that's what it took, I thought bitterly to myself. An affair, and now he suddenly remembers I exist.

I closed my eyes and willed myself to say it.

"Scott I'm pregnant."

Scott stared at me, uncomprehending, and I blurted out quickly, "It's Logan's."

Scott was so surprised that he immediately stood up, looking down at me with shock on his face.

"Jesus fucking Christ Jean? What? Are you serious?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, starting to get worried. "Look, it wasn't-"

"Didn't you use any protection?" Scott asked in the same tone of angry disbelief. "What happened? You-you didn't even think--- holy shit Jean."

I was crying harder by now, and seeing Scott so agitated was only making it worse.

"I'm on the pill Scott, you know that."

Scott balled his hands into fists and for a split second I was afraid he would hit me. Instead he just turned his back to me and said, a little louder, "So what the HELL went through your mind when you decided to go and fuck that animal?"

I was shocked. I'd never heard Scott talk like this before, never heard him use language that crude before, and it changed something in me. I stopped crying.

"You weren't here for me! He was!" I yelled back at him, standing up so that we were at least on equal ground. "Mistakes happen! It's really none of your business!"

"Not my business? Jesus," He ran his hand over his mouth, shaking his head. His visor was glowing bright, and for the first time in my life I was actually scared of my husband. This was not the man I knew.

"I can't believe it Jean. I cannot...fucking...believe this." Scott said, his whole body shaking. His hands were still knotted into fists, and he was breathing hard. I'd never seen him this upset before, never. I shrunk away a little as he continued, his voice rising.

"I mean I knew you'd always wanted to fuck him Jean! I knew it!" He pointed an accusing finger in my face. "I knew you always wished that I was more like him. But I never thought you'd be stupid enough to go whore yourself out to him like this!"

"Don't, Scott!" I said, my voice much stronger now.

"You heard me Jean! Whore! Because that's what you are to him! That's all he knows!"

"That's enough Scott!" I yelled, anger boiling in my blood. The tears had dried on my face. "How dare you call me that! Ever!"

"Have you lost your mind, woman?" Scott yelled back at me. "It's Wolverine!"

"So what?" I yelled defiantly.

"Do you know who he is? He's a murderer! That's what he does! That's what he was born to do! And when he's not busy killing someone with those fucking claws of his, you know what kind of man he is? You think he's gonna stick around? NO! He's gonna run off like he always does and leave you with your bastard chil-"

"RRRRRRWWWWAAAAR!"

At that moment, Logan literally broke down his own door and tackled Scott so fast it was a blur. Scott went down hard on his back, and in a split second Logan had one hand on his neck and the other lifted high, claws unsheathed, ready to behead my soon to be ex-husband, Scott Summers.

"LOGAN STOP!" I screamed in utter terror and desperation.

My voice made Logan pause just long enough for Cyclops to hit him with a full force optic blast, the kind that can level a building.

Wolverine crashed through the wall, hitting part of the window, shattered glass and plaster flying everywhere. An expression of rage on his face, Scott ran and jumped out the window after Logan. Logan rolled to his feet and jumped into a crouch on the lawn, both claws unsheathed. Scott was running at him full speed, his face determined.

"STOP! STOP IT!" I yelled frantically out of Logan's broken window, and I turned and ran down the stairs, all fatigue momentarily forgotten, and burst out the front doors of the mansion. I hadn't even gotten to the lawn before another wave of nausea and dizziness overtook me and instead of chasing after the two of them I ended up falling to my knees, doubled over, retching on the stone steps of the institute.

I heard footsteps rushing past me as the commotion was heard throughout the mansion. Students rushed out the door, trying to get a look at the fight.

"The teachers are goin' at it again!" I heard someone yell as a crowd began to gather.

"Where's Beast? Where's Emma? Go get another professor!"

"Oh my God look at Wolverine! Shit!!"

"Oh my God! Holy crap! Did Cyclops kill him?"

"Wolverine can't die!"

"When he heals, Cyclops is gonna be a dead man!"

I was struggling to get back on my feet when I felt a pair hands grasp my shoulders gently.

"Hey, Jean... woah, are you okay? Did you just hurl?"

I dizzily looked up to see Kitty, holding one of my arms and looking at me with confused, concerned eyes.

"Are you all right? You're sick?" She asked, puzzled.

"Stop them," I said weakly. It was all I could manage.

Kitty looked at me with slightly scared eyes,

"Jean, it's Logan and Cyclops.. I ... what do you want me to do..?"

Even through the pain and haze, I knew Kitty was right. Her powers couldn't stop them.

I knew whose powers could.

"Help me up," I said to Kitty, and with one arm slung around her shoulders I got to my feet. Taking a deep breath, I lurched towards Cyclops and Wolverine, who were almost certainly going to kill each other in the next six seconds unless I intervened.

"Jean! Wait!" Kitty said, as I picked up my pace.

I staggered off the front steps. Cyclops was running towards Wolverine at full speed, and despite looking gravely injured Wolverine had both sets of claws out and was growling loud enough for me to hear it over the din of the crowd.

As soon as I had a clear view of both of them, I focused.

Using my TK, I wrenched them apart, and they went flying like rag dolls in different directions. They both landed on opposite sides of the lawn, hard enough to knock the breath out of them.

Then with a blink I exercised my power, reached out to their minds, and shut them down.

It's a pretty elementary trick, actually. Something I learned from Xavier when I was a teenager, but I tend to save it for when it's really needed because it takes a lot out of me and I've heard one wakes up with an awful headache afterwards.

As soon as I saw their forms, inert on the lawn, the fight over, I fell to my hands and knees.

Kitty ran to me and helped me up.

"I called Hank. Just relax Jean. It's okay, it's okay, he's coming."

"I need... to lie down," I groaned, and one arm slung around her shoulder, Kitty helped me through the front door of the mansion and into a chair. I collapsed in it, utterly exhausted.

Seconds later Hank was at my side, taking my pulse.

"Jean! You're in no condition to do this kind of thing," he scolded, but he was obviously worried sick over me. He fretted over his wristwatch before jotting some numbers down and putting stethoscope to my chest. "Do you hear me Jean? Deep breath. Good. No more of this! Scott and Logan can take care of themselves, it's not the first time they've decided to play UFC on the lawn, you know."

I tried to respond, but nothing came out. I was literally too tired to speak. All I could manage was, "Nnnnhh."

Kitty was kneeling by my side, smoothing my hair back. I hated that I was causing a scene like this, making so many people worry, but I simply didn't have the energy to move or offer any kind of reassurance.

"It's different now with the baby," Hank continued, chastising me gently as he patted a vein in my arm, and then stuck me with some kind of syringe. I was too tired to wince, or care. "You can't just go running into battle whenever there's an alpha male dispute on the team! I mean it!"

I groaned again in response.

"The baby?" Kitty whispered. Then she said out loud, her face lighting up, "Jean! You're pregnant! Oh my gosh! That's great news! Is that why they were fighting? Is that it? Is Logan jealous?"

Hank looked at me with terrible chagrin. My eyes slipped shut, and I took a deep breath and then opened them again. I could hardly blame Hank at a time like this, even if it wasn't quite the public announcement I'd been planning.

"I'm so sorry, I-I didn't think-" He blurted out, his yellow cat eyes darting back and forth, his furry brow wrinkling. "I forgot we had company. Pardon me Jean, I'm so, so sorry. I-- please forgive me."

"It's okay Hank," I said trying to give him a reassuring look. Then I turned my head weakly and looked at Kitty, who was staring at me with raised eyebrows and a grin.

"Yes, Kitty I'm pregnant," I said. "And no, Logan isn't jealous. He's the father."

As soon at the words were out of my mouth, Kitty's expression changed completely. Her jaw actually dropped completely open. Her eyes practically bulged out of her head.

She sat staring like that for a full minute before she shut her mouth abruptly and said, "Oh."

She continued staring at me, and then said, "Oh. Oh wow."

I didn't have the strength to care.

"I guess that explains, uh, this" Kitty finally said, recoving some, gesturing out the open door. "Guess that really explains it," she muttered.

"Hey! Wolverine's coming to!" I heard Bobby's voice cry out from outside.

Damnit, I thought. My little lights out trick was supposed to last for at least four or five hours. Of course, I'd forgotten about Logan's healing factor.

"Lemme in there! Where's Jean!" I heard gruffly. Logan's voice, of course.

I heard a thump, like he'd fallen, and another voice.

"Uh, Wolverine...uh, maybe you better wait for Hank to check you out, man."

"Yeah dude, Ororo got mad last time you got blood on the carpet. That wound is sick. Just wait here."

"Get offa me," he growled, and there was the sound of worried conversation back and forth.

There were some shuffling sounds outside. I was just clinging to consciousness, my world was fading white and then coming back. Hank's anxious blue face floated in and out of my vision.

"Let me in ya little vermin, I'm fine." Logan said. "Will all of ya just get off my back? Don't you have homework to do or somethin'?" I heard him stumble through the hallway.

A few seconds later, Logan staggered up to the chair I was sitting in. His voice was desperate, his expression terrified.

"Are ya okay Jeannie? Look, I'm sorry, I know I told ya I wouldn't interfere, but when he started sayin' those things to ya, I just-I just-I couldn't control myself."

I knew he meant well.

I knew that his heart was, as always, in the right place.

But while Logan was saying all these things, he was also holding his torso together with one arm. The flesh was cut, bloodstains soaking his flannel shirt and jeans. I could actually see the jagged edges of skin, the parts of his muscles and intestines as they slowly wound around, sealed up, evenly knit themselves back together.

"Jeannie?" he said.

That's when I fainted.


	6. Xavier's Warning

SUMMARY: That little problem is about to get a whole lot bigger…

* * *

Chapter 6: Xavier's Warning

* * *

I opened my eyes.

I was staring at a grey tiled ceiling.

I blinked a few times, and turned my head.

"Logan," I said softly.

He was sitting in a chair by my bedside, in the same bloodstained clothes he'd come in with, only he was completely healed by now. His head was lolling to the side, resting on his shoulder. There was a thin strand of drool coming from his mouth. He was snoring softly. He was definitely asleep.

I smiled despite myself. I wondered how long I had been out. Except for a slight headache, I was feeling much better. And now that I had confessed my darkest secret and lived through it, I was feeling lighter inside as well.

I looked to my right, and nearly gave a start. There was Scott. He was also fast asleep, head rested on the edge of my bed.

I pushed myself onto my elbows right as Hank padded into the room, his toenail claws making little clicking sounds while he walked. He sidled up to my bedside and smiled.

"Ah, so you've seen our sleeping beauties. Peaceful, isn't it?" He asked, looking at the inert forms of Logan and Scott.

"Can you keep them like this all time?" I asked sarcastically. Then, I immediately asked, "The baby...?"

"Is fine. You were just dehydrated, I suspect from the morning sickness. I gave you some electrolytes and you've just been sleeping it off."

Just then, Scott stirred and woke up with a snort. He looked around.

"Uhn. Oh... Jean." He said, lifting his head.

"I'm all right, Scott," I said quickly.

His hair was touseled and his visor was on crooked. I looked down at him, and for a moment it was like old times. I felt a wave of nostalgia wash over me. But then, just as quickly, his words came back to me and rang in my ears.

Whore, Jean. That's all you are to him. That's all he knows.

"Look," he said, softly. "I've been waiting here to tell you...I-I said some things I shouldn't have-"

"Jeannie baby?" a slurred voice interrupted. I looked to my left and saw Logan, eyes opening sleepily as he blinked and sat up. He wiped the drool off the corner of his mouth and looked puzzled. "Shit, did I fall asleep?"

"What did you just call her, Wolverine? What's that? Baby?" Scott asked, squinting his eyes under the visor, his tone sharp.

"Fuck off, Summers," Wolverine growled, baring his canines.

"Boys," Hank said, his tone a solid block of ice. "This is about Jean. This is about Jean's health. She doesn't need this immature posturing from either of you right now. If I hear one more outburst, you both leave."

Wolverine and Cyclops glared at each other from opposite sides of the bedspread and I rolled my eyes.

"They're no longer allowed to be in the same room without supervision. By order of Xavier," Hank explained politely to me, punching a few buttons on a machine and mumbling at the information it gave.

Ignoring the two men who were engaged in a virtual pissing contest at my bedside, I asked Hank, "What's the news? About the baby, I mean?"

My question instantly caught Logan's attention. "News about the baby?" He asked anxiously.

Scott didn't say anything. He rubbed the stubble on his chin and looked away.

"Don't worry Logan," Hank said. "It's nothing bad. A bit surprising, is all."

We stared at Dr. McCoy together, and Logan grabbed my hand. I squeezed it, eyes instinctively darting to Scott, who pretended to ignore the gesture.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense any longer doc," Logan said irritably. "What is it? Does it have three arms or somethin'?"

"That's not funny, Logan," I snapped, giving him a sharp look.

"It wasn't supposed to be funny, darlin'!" Logan replied.

"What is it, Hank?" I pressed. "What's the news about the baby?"

Hank took a deep breath and looked from one of us to the others.

"Babies," he said, with a grin.

"What?" The three of us asked at once. Now even Scott had to look up and pay attention.

"I would like to congratulate you Jean, and of course the proud papa," He said, smiling at Logan, "And uh... the um... other... family..." he said, looking uncomfortably at Scott. "You're having twins."

"Twins?" Logan said, and his face lit up. I was completely unprepared for his reaction and I think Scott was too, because we both just stared at Logan like he'd suddenly grown a second head. He was grinning ear to ear.

"Jeannie we're havin' twins! There's two of'em!" Logan said excitedly.

I couldn't help it. I started laughing.

"Who ARE you?" I asked incredulously. In response, Logan leaned over to kiss me, and then inches away, suddenly remembered Scott, who was glowering, and thought better of it. He cleared his throat and sat back down.

"I'm happy too, Logan," I reassured him, smiling at his enthusiasm, thankful that he'd chosen not to pick a fight. All the same, I was a little stunned. If there was one man in the mansion I could've picked for loving fatherhood, I wouldn't have picked Logan. Then again, he was always telling me he was full of surprises.

Scott coughed, and then gave me a hard look.

"Logan," he started, shifting his gaze and staring hard at the sheets. "I need a minute with Jean. Alone."

I could almost feel Logan bristle at this comment, but thankfully he kept his temper in check.

"You all right with that, Jeannie?" Logan asked me, the hostility thinly disguised in his voice.

"It'll be fine Logan. Scott and I do need to talk," I said.

With a sigh, Logan got out of the chair and stretched. He looked down and for the first time seemed to realize the grisly clothes and stiff dried blood coating him.

"I'm headed upstairs for a shower. If you need anythin' darlin..." he said.

I smiled again. A girl could get used to being waited on hand and foot. "Actually... I could really use some orange juice right now Logan. I'm thirsty."

"You got it darlin'," Logan said, a proud grin on his face, and strolled out of the room. I had really never seen him so happy before. It was kind of disconcerting to me, like there was a whole side to Logan that had been hidden all these years.

How funny, I mused. All these years of trying to cage the berserker, and the only thing that had ever worked was ony a few cells big. I smiled to myself.

When Logan had left the room, Scott dragged his chair closer to my bedside.

"Look Jean," he said, clasping his hands behind his neck. "I apologize. I really do."

I didn't know how to respond. His comments still stung me. But at the same time, I'd pushed him to get there. I'd betrayed him, too.

"I'm sorry too," I whispered. "I wish... I wish more than anything that it hadn't been like this. We should've talked a long time ago."

There was a brief silence between us.

"I feel like I owe it to you.. to... to tell you," Scott started, and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I did sleep with Emma."

I swallowed hard. I knew it, and yet it still hurt to hear it. It hurt a lot, a deep, piercing hurt. Within my heart, it burned. I'd always thought Scott loved me more than that. Even when he acted like he barely knew me, I always hoped...some part of him was still in love. Abandoning that hope wasn't easy. It was near impossible.

"How long has it been going on between you two?" I asked, trying to keep a steady voice.

Scott hung his head before he replied. "Three and a half months since the first time."

I was shocked. Scott had begun his affair a full month before I'd ever even touched Logan. I guess it could've made me feel better, but instead it just made me feel sad. And foolish. How had I not noticed? Had I been so blind?

"When I'm feeling better, I suppose we'll start divorce proceedings." I said in a cold voice. It was the only thing I could think of to say. Well no, I could think of plenty more to say, but it wasn't very nice.

"Jean...I know... I know we're both with other people now, but..."

"But what?" I said sharply. "I don't have anything else to say to you Scott."

Scott stood up, looking ashamed. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. I saw Logan standing in the door, holding a glass of orange juice.

"You guys need more time?" he asked.

"No Logan, thanks for your courtesy," Scott said with near civility. "We're done here."

I sighed as Logan delivered the orange juice. Here I was, pregnant. Scott was flying off the handle and Logan was smiling ear to ear. Had I accidentally entered some other dimension? Was this all just an elaborate danger room simulation? It was starting to feel that way.

As I drank my orange juice, I couldn't help but notice Logan staring at me. His smile had faded and now there was an almost painful expression on his face.

"What is it?" I asked him.

"I...I'm just... I'm glad you're okay," he said, struggling for words, his look of hurt deepening.

I sighed. I knew Logan. I knew he felt incredibly guilty about losing his temper and fighting Scott, and I knew if anything had happened to me or my unborn children he would've blamed himself for the rest of his life. That was quite a burden. But it was part of who he was. I suddenly felt a rush of sympathy for him.

"Come here Logan," I said, and I laid his head on my shoulder, stroking his hair. He settled against me. We stayed there, not moving. It felt nice. It was just the two of us, Logan breathing, his warm weight against my shoulder. I ran my fingers over his sideburns, through his thick hair.

"I'm all right," I said, soothing him. "I'm not hurt. I'm not dead. Okay? I'm here."

"I love ya, you know," came Logan's muffled response.

I smiled. "I know."

At that moment, the professor rolled in, pulling his wheelchair up to his bedside. At this point I was beginning to feel like quite the popular hospital patient.

"Jean, Logan, I'd like to speak with you," He said, smiling and looking from one of us to the other.

"Charles!" I said, overjoyed. Logan lifted his head off my chest.

"Hey Chuck."

I assumed the news of my pregnancy had long since reached Xavier by now, but the bond I shared with Charles Xavier was one of a mentor-I looked up to him a great deal, shared my life with him, and I knew he was going to be excited about a new impending addition to the x-family regardless of the relationships it put in turmoil.

"First off, let me congratulate you, Jean and Logan, on this joyous news," Charles said, smiling warmly at me. "Do you know when you're due yet?" He asked.

"Hank said it would probably be late May," I replied.

"There's two of em', Charlie, if you can believe that," Logan boasted, and I had to cover a grin. I knew if I told Logan how cute his excitement was, he'd just scowl about it and refuse to speak.

"Well Logan, I most certainly can... and that's what I came here to speak with you about."

In an instant, Charles' smile changed from warm to concerned.

"With any high-profile offspring, but with yours in particular, I am afraid there are many great risks," Charles said in a grave tone. I felt the hair on my arms stand up.

"What kind of risks do you mean exactly?" I asked.

"Well, look at this way. You, Jean, are the epitome of psychic power. You house the ultimate in potential for both telekinetic and telepathic gifts."

"I know," I said softly, still not getting where he was going with this, and why it had to do with our children.

"Logan is epitome of physical perfection- a perfect killing machine, a weapon, born for combat, able to heal or overcome any adversity."

"Yeah, what's your point Charlie?" Logan asked. I could tell that under his irritated tone he was really just as worried about this as I was. Charles continued.

"With these two traits combined, you two, above anyone else, have the possibility of producing a child with some of the strongest mutant abilities mankind has ever seen. Your genetics, together, have the potential to create something with unheard of power."

I instinctively put my hand to my stomach. Could that be possible? Some little seed within me would one day grow into something fearfully powerful? It seemed totally absurd, and yet, Charles was dead serious.

"While this could be a great cause of celebration to some of us, it will also unfortunately be a great cause of distress to others. What I am trying to say, Jean and Logan, is that you must be prepared."

I took Logan's hand in mine again and he glanced worriedly at me.

"I'm afraid that there are going to be efforts to terminate your child. Or to steal it, as the case may be. To use this gift, manipulate it, treat it as a weapon."

At those last words I heard Logan growl.

"I'll be damned if anybody gets within' a hundred feet o' Jeannie without gettin' a taste of adamandtium," Logan threatened as his claws slid out.

"I'm well aware you can take care of the two of you, Logan," the Professor said. "And we also have a great number of powerful friends on our side. All I'm saying is, be cautious. I see this child as a blessing and I don't want any harm to come to it either. That's why I came here to today to warn you."

I nodded.

"I understand Charles." I said, "And...thank you. I know it's going to be a rough road ahead and this is certainly... this is certainly not what I planned on doing, but now that it's been set in motion, I'm going to see it through."

"Yeah, what she said," Logan said to Charles, giving me an admiring look. "Jeannie's one strong woman, an' if anyone can do this she can. And if anyone so much as looks at her the wrong way-"

"Yes, Logan, I get your point," Charles said, smiling. "Well, that was all the unfortunate news I had to deliver. Other than that I just wanted to wish you two luck."

"Thank you Charles," I said, reaching out of bed to give him a hug. "Thank you so much, your blessing means more than anything to me."

"I've been waiting quite a while for this. It took you long enough, Jean," he said to me softly with a twinkle in his eye. I looked back, confused, as he maneuvered his wheelchair out the door without another word.

"Did you hear what he said Logan?" I asked.

"Yeah. Didn't make any sense to me either," Logan said, shrugging.


	7. Rise of Phoenix

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Um... ok, there is a whole previous chapter to this that I just flat out couldn't post, because it was too spicy for general consumption. Again, if you want the whole thing just browse on over to and look for me, Amandasfire. If that's not your cup of tea, the story still makes sense without it! Enjoy!

SUMMARY: Never try to catch a Phoenix, you'll get more than you bargained for.

* * *

Chapter 7: Rise of Phoenix

* * *

I woke up with a gasp.

My heart was pounding. There had been no noise to wake me, but I immediately knew something was terribly wrong.

Logan was already sitting up in bed, looking tense and alert, and I put my hands against the warm muscles of his back.

I quickly glanced at the glowing numbers on the bedside clock. It said 3:21 am. I'd only been asleep for two hours.

"...Logan?" I asked softly.

He silenced me with a quick gesture.

My heartbeat was loud in my own ears; thud, thud, thud.

A second later my body jumped in surprise as I heard the familiar metallic sound of Logan's claws being unsheathed and he slid out of bed and onto his feet without a sound, stalking forward towards the door.

*Stay here. Don't move, Jean.* he thought at me, and his tone left no room for argument. Whatever this was, he was dead serious about it. I usually would've protested, but I was so disoriented from waking up all I could do was blink. Two seconds later the emergency lighting came on and the alarm sounded.

"Shit," Logan swore in a guttural tone and eased his way out the door as the dark red lights flashed over both of us.

For a moment I felt paralyzed...and then, like sliding on a glove, my training quickly came and took over. I climbed silently out of bed. Instead of following Logan, I stood behind the door, in a more easily defensible and hidden position. Standing there, I executed a quick psychic scan of the mansion. What I sensed made my blood run cold. Someone was trying to block me out-it was definitely technology and not another mutant -but I could get far enough around the shielding to vaguely sense many bodies, as many as twenty or thirty, all taking offensive stances around the mansion.

We were definitely under attack. From who, I didn't know, but they were obviously organized and probably was a moment of perfect calm, when all I could hear was the drone of the mansion's security alarm and the dull flash of the emergency lighting.

Then, all hell broke loose.

I gave a scream of surprise as the window behind me shattered and a canister of tear gas was thrown out into the room. I ran into the hall and saw Logan and Emma running for the stairs. Emma delivered a telepathic message to me seconds before she morphed into diamond form and lost the ability to project thoughts. What she sent me was only two words, but coming from Emma, it struck me like a blow. No matter what our disagreements were, no matter what personal differences we had, when it came to a fight we were a team and Emma was fully aware that I was a part of it. She knew I was a fighter on the front line. There could only one reason for her to deliver the message she did.

She said, "Hide, Jean."

I heard noise from downstairs-heard Scott's optic blast hit once, twice, and more glass breaking. I ran down the hall as fast as I could. Protocol in an emergency for any non-combatant personnel was to go directly the Danger Room. It functioned as the mansion's panic room, and if I could get inside I would be virtually untouchable.

If I could get inside. It meant going downstairs.

A second later, Xavier's voice filled up my head like a microphone in an amphitheatre-it was calm, rational among the chaos.

"X-Men, the mansion is under siege. The attackers are of unknown origin but appear to be human, technologically enhanced. We have ascertained their target is Jean Grey, her safety is currently the number one priority of the team."

I almost got sick when I heard it, but part of me knew there wasn't time for weakness now. As one of the X-Men, I'd been forged in fire. There was nothing I couldn't and hadn't faced down before, as I sure as hell wasn't going to let anyone change that now.

Without hesitation I ran straight for the stairs.

A body flew at me on the way up, knocking my shoulder back as I absorbed part of the blow using TK. I could see Hank, flashes of blue fur, black under the red lighting, fighting like a wild animal, flying effortlessly and gracefully through the air. They enemy appeared to be organized in troops of three or four; in the low light and din of noise I could count about twelve total, all in grey uniforms and some kind of gas masks, faces hidden. Logan was downstairs fighting as well, and I could see the slick blood covering his hands and chest. He'd never even gotten a chance to suit up; he was fighting in boxers.

I knew if he saw me he'd run towards me so I threw up a quick psy-block to keep him from sensing my presence and eased past the staircase.

I had one simple goal; one thought that cleared all else from my mind. My goal was to get unnoticed to the Danger Room as quickly as possible. I had run over combat training on the mansion grounds a thousand times before, and now I had two choices. I could either take the longer, but more covered route through the den, or I could go the open but more direct route down the hallway.

Glancing either way I made a run for the hall.

It was a gamble, and unfortunately it was a big mistake.

A second after I'd run out of cover into the hall, one of the shock troops turned the corner. In a burst of adrenaline I used a hard push of TK to send them reeling backwards. Right away I knew something was wrong. What I'd given them should've sent them flying, and instead they'd only stumbled back a few paces. It hit me with a panic; my powers weren't working right. They either had power dampeners or x-gene inhibitors on. Whoever these people were, they were serious about capturing me.

The first soldier in line quickly recovered from the TK blast and lunged towards me, some kind of stun gun drawn. As I threw my hands up to cover my face I heard a loud sound and a blinding flash of red light as Scott's optic blast hit the lead soldier full force, knocking him clear through a wall.

Without a word, Scott quickly helped me up. In a second Emma was by his side.

"Danger Room," I said quickly, and the two of them nodded. I could hear Hank and Logan still battling it out in the living room, a serious of growls, yells, and gunfire.

I turned around and ran towards the Danger Room with Scott and Emma flanking me on either side.

It was only a matter of yards now, the length of a hallway, and I would be safe.

A few feet from the entrance to the room, there was a sudden FWAPP sound and Scott gave a yell of surprise. A webbed net had exploded over him and Emma and then contracted, pulling them down, tangled together, effectively taking them out.

I turned in a panic to face the enemy. There were five or six men running down the hall. Part of the fear was in silence; none of these soldiers had spoken once, even the wounded. They simply dropped and clutched their limbs in pain. It was awful, just to hear the sounds of flesh and bone and nothing else.

I held up my hands against the onslaught, summoning all the muted power I had to repel them. I already knew it wouldn't be enough. Suddenly, one of the soldiers split open like a wet paper bag, disemboweled before my eyes. I stared in shock and horror until I saw the sharp gleam of adamantium as he was tossed aside. Logan was running towards me, literally covered in blood. Even though I'd seen it a million times it was still a haunting and grisly sight, the look in his eyes not quite human.

"Get in!" he yelled at me, voice hoarse.

I snapped to my senses and focused enough to quickly type in the access code on the wall panel that would open the large metal doors to the Danger Room.

I got it right on the first try, as the red light blinked to green.

Hurry, hurry, hurry I willed silently.

As the doors began to hiss open I turned my head back towards the hall. Logan was still facing me, all senses focused on me, unaware of the soldier running at him full speed from behind.

"LOGAN LOOK OUT!" I screamed. Logan turned, but not fast enough. The man was wielding something that reminded me a lot of a destructive weapon I hadn't seen in a long time; it bore an eerie resemblance to Psylocke's psychic knife.

Logan turned and sunk his claws deep into the belly of the soldier right as the soldier rammed the weapon against Logan's skull.

The soldier writhed wordlessly as he died; Logan fell like a stone.

He stayed down, not moving. Oh God, what had they done to him?

"LOGAN!" I screamed in agony. I glance around desperately. No sign of Hank. Emma and Scott were still stuck, struggling in the net. More soldiers were running down the hallway.

Behind me, the door to the Danger Room was open wide, ready to save me. Ready to hide me. And I had only one thought.

No.

It was a moment of perfect clarity in a sea of chaos, ringing out like a clear bell above all the panic that surrounded me.

No, I wasn't going to run.

I was going to fight.

I was going to win.

"Aaaaauuugghh," I screamed as it welled up inside me, feelings like fountains of molten lava tearing through me like a riptide. An elemental fire that felt all too familiar sparked within me and engulfed me whole. My body felt a familiar shock at its return, my vision temporarily blinded, my mind swimming in a pleasurable and omnipotent rage as the power hummed through my bones like a thousand volt live wire.

It took me over like a wildfire, burning hotter and hotter until it had consumed me whole.

Suddenly, I was not Jean.

I was Phoenix.

I was power.

I was violence.

I was death.

"GET OUT," I said, and my voice filled the mansion, filled every head, filled every thought and every memory, every sense the enemy had.

They were nothing to me. Little ants to be crushed, toys to torture and discard. They had tried to hurt me. Useless worms. Now, they would pay for this mistake with their lives.

I brought both my hands forwards and squeezed. I reached for the tissues of their souls, fingernails scraping against their vulnerable moments, dissolving their memories, the fabric of space-time twisting them inside out. Ten men collapsed before me, writhing on the ground, and I began to laugh. It was so pleasurable, to see them squirm. I enjoyed it very much. Yes, it was delicious. My smile was wide as I spoke.

"YOU PITIFUL MISCREANTS, WITH YOUR PITIFUL WEAPONS," I spat. "YOUR STUPID LITTLE GAMES. LET'S PLAY, THEN! PLAY WITH ME! I HAVE A GAME FOR YOU!"

Throwing my arms open wide, I encompassed all of them, all of the enemy I could find, and I tore off part of their reality like a photographic background. In its wake, my mind painted for them a hell more terrible than anything they could've imagined. Every secret they'd held, every person they'd loved, every crime they'd committed oozed out of them, suffocating them, binding them. As they died they screamed. Screamed and howled with abandon, and I took such joy from the sound.

I tilted my head back and laughed, letting the power flow through my veins, beautiful, effervescent.

But a second later I felt a sudden pain in my head, as if someone had psychically slapped me in my face.

I turned, enraged, ready to strike out and devour whoever had dealt the offending blow.

"Got your attention, I suppose?"

There stood Emma. She'd gotten out of the net and wasn't in diamond form. She'd had to sacrifice it in order to access her abilities as a telepath. Her blond hair reflected the psychic fire radiating off me. I smirked at her frail form, basked in my glow. She was nothing to me. I could crush her as easily as I could a fly.

Yet she stood with a look of cold determination.

"I don't want to kill you, Jean, but I will certainly die trying if I have to," Emma said in the same icy tone, not moving an inch. "Come back Jean, come back now. Come back to us before you do something you WILL regret."

Her words just enraged me further. Couldn't she see that compared to me she was a mere splinter?

"THE WHITE QUEEN... A JOKE," I taunted her. "A NOTHING. YOUR LIFE MEANS NOTHING TO ME."

"Jean," came another familiar voice. I knew that voice. Hearing his voice confused me, made me hurt. I didn't like the hurt.

Scott. It was Scott.

"Jean," he pleaded, standing behind Emma. "Please. This is not you. You are with child. Do you remember that? Do you remember Logan? He's the father. Do you remember me? Your husband. Come back, Jean. Remember us. Don't leave us, we need you, all of us."

His words hit me like a barrage of flying stones, I cringed under them.

And then, suddenly, it all began to fade around me, rushing back to me, images and pictures flying helter-skelter through my mind.

A wedding dress. Scott. White cake. Outside. The woods. Logan. Yes. I remembered Logan. Sense memory. Our bodies together, the place... that sacred white place of oneness...

My children. The unborn children I carried inside this body. Jean...Jean's body.

My body.

Babies, Hank had said with a grin on his face. Congratulation's you're..

"Having twins..." I said out loud, suddenly disoriented. "Having twins. Jean's pregnant, I'm...Scott... help... I am..." I struggled. He lunged forward, grabbed my shoulders, supporting me, his face close to mine.

"We're here for you, come back," he whispered to me, the intensity of his voice cutting into the static in my mind.

"Yes," I said, trying to push through the confusion.

"You are Jean," Scott said. "You are Jean Grey."

"Yes. I feel it. I am... I am.. Jean," I forced each word out. Saying out loud triggered something in me. In a sudden rush the fire left me, sucking the energy from my bones, leaving me cold and hollow as a shell.

"Oh God," I said, holding my suddenly empty head. "I'm so sorry. I'm..."

Emma and Scott were there at my side, holding me upright.

"Glad to have you back, Jean," Scott said with great relief, and he sounded sincere.

"Not that I wouldn't mind killing you dear, but I'm glad I didn't have to clean up the mess afterwards," Emma said, with the hint of a smile on her face.

I stood up, trembling but alive. The Phoenix was under control, at least for now. I looked at the bodies littered on the floor. I knew I'd killed many, and under normal circumstances it would twist at my heart, make me grieve... but in this case, I honestly didn't care.

However...

There was one body without a grey uniform, laying still and unmoving on the ground.

"Logan!" I cried, breaking away from Scott and Emma, rushing to his side.

He was perfectly still. I couldn't even tell if he wasn't breathing. It wasn't right. None of it was right. I couldn't see a wound on him, and even if there had been...his healing factor...

He'd been down for too long. Something was wrong.

"Get Hank," Scott said urgently to Emma and she took off and ran down the hall.

"Logan...don't die on me now," I said, a quaver in my voice.

He didn't respond.


	8. Mind's Eye

Charles and I sat across from each other, the light of his desk lamp casting sharp shadows across his face.

"It was without a doubt a psychic attack, with some kind of unknown adapted weaponry," he told me. "Otherwise, as you know, Logan would've recovered by now. Physically, there's nothing wrong with him. He's healed. Mentally…" Charles' mouth turned down in a scowl.

"Mentally, he has been unresponsive. Whoever planned this attack knew who to target, and how. It was only the fact that you surprised them with the Phoenix force that enabled us to prevail."

"And Logan?" I pressed. "Is he…will he…?"

"I can't say anything for certain right now, Jean," Xavier sighed.

"But you've been working on him for hours Charles," I said, my head in my hands. "Why hasn't there been any progress made?"

"Don't give up hope, Jean," Charles said to me tenderly. "That's something I wanted to talk with you about. But first… well, I wasn't sure whether or not to tell you, I didn't want to risk upsetting you in your fragile state."

"It's a little too late for that," I said, my eyes red. I'd been crying for the past hour as Logan had lain motionless, completely unresponsive in the MedLab. He didn't even have basic reflexes, according to Hank. He and Charles were putting on a brave face, but I was no fool when it came to Logan's condition. At best, he was trapped in a psychic coma. At worst, he was brain dead.

The thought made a sob catch in my throat again and the Professor put an arm on my shoulder.

"You're sure, this isn't too much… we could do this another time," he said softly.

"No!" I interjected quickly, wiping away my tears. I was done hiding from anything, ever again. "Tell me whatever it was you wanted to tell me."

Professor Xavier gave me a slightly worried expression, and then drew what seemed to be a metal kit out from his desk drawer. It was slightly smaller than a briefcase, made of seamless metal.

"We found this on one of the bodies of the attackers," he said gravely, and with a click and a hiss the kit opened.

I stared in horror inside. It didn't take all my medical training to tell me it was full of surgical instruments and glass vials.

"My god," I said, hands flying protectively to my stomach.

"I'm afraid this is what I warned you and Logan of, Jean. I believe they were here to extract the fetuses and either harvest the stem cells or attempt an effort at cloning."

"Those bastards," I hissed, and for a moment I felt the licks of flame grazing my mind.

Charles gave a deep sigh.

"I know how disturbing it is, but at the same time, we did defeat the enemy. And we are all still here."

"Except Logan," I said bitterly.

"Yes," Charles said, and now his tone was someone lighter. It piqued my curiosity. But I wasn't quite ready for the word hope. "That, Jean," he said, leaning forward, "Is what I wanted to talk to you about. I believe the reason my efforts at psychic rehabilitation have not been working with Logan is because it's not me he wants."

"What?" I asked Charles, eyes questioning. "What does that even mean?"

"He won't let me in," Charles said, giving me a small smile. "And I mean that quite literally. If you're feeling well enough, I'd like you to come join me in the MedLab. You can see for yourself."

"Yes—I," I started, and now hope had begun to creep in. Perhaps all wasn't lost. If there was anything I could do to save Logan…to save the man I loved, then I would do it, no questions asked. I knew he would do the same for me without hesitation.

Hank turned his head and greeted us as we walked through the door. I saw that a chair had already been prepared at Logan's bedside. Logan was lying utterly still, expression blank, chest rising and falling at regular intervals, a neural inhibitor hovering over his head, keeping him in a sort of mental stasis.

"You may remove the device, Hank," Charles said calmly. "If I am correct, with Jean at the helm we may have found the key we are looking for."

Hank glanced at me with a worried expression. "Jean, are you sure you feel ready for this?" he asked.

"Absolutely," I said, leaving no trace of doubt in my voice. "It'll be worse if I don't try, trust me. And turning into Phoenix may be bad for the enemy's health, but it certainly was good for mine. I don't feel as sick anymore."

"Very well then Jean, if you insist," Hank acquiesced, still with a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

The two men moved back to give me space, as I sat down at the head of Logan's bed.

Carefully, I laced my fingers through his dark black hair until my fingertips were in contact with his temples. Being this near him, feeling his warm skin, his smell, it was hard to believe that according to the EEGs Logan was barely alive.

I flat out refused to believe it.

Logan was a fighter. He wasn't going to leave me and he certainly wasn't going to leave his future children. I knew he was in there.

_Time to go to work_, I thought to myself. _Just your average everyday psychic 9-5_.

I was joking with myself, trying to psych myself up. I'd seen glimpses of Logan's subconscious before, and saying they weren't too nice would be quite an understatement. I had to be prepared for anything, really.

I took several deep breaths and then I let my eyes slide slowly closed. Before me was the blackness of a movie screen, the darkness before the show. Like flexing a muscle, I accessed my telepathic power.

Gradually, the real world dissolved around me. I could see it melting away, streaking down like watercolors, bright and confused. Sounds and voices whipped by, swirled around me. Sensations brushed across my hands, face.

And then there was silence.

I was in.

When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer in the MedLab. I was in a very different place. I was outside, and I could feel the warm sun shining against my hair and skin, the balmy breeze of a spring day. There was an azure blue sky overhead and patches of white cumulous clouds floating lazily along.

I could hardly believe this was Logan's head. Was this some kind of mistake? I'd been around Logan enough to know the different parts of his mind, but this was something I'd never seen before.

Perhaps, I thought, the psychic attack had pushed him so deeply into his own mind that all the usual Weapon X defenses had been broken away, temporarily subterfuged. Could this be what was underneath?

I looked around in wonderment.

It looked like I'd stepped into a landscape painting. Grass fields rolled lushly around me, the air fresh and clear. Taking a breath, I took my first look around.

Almost immediately a wooden gate appeared and lay barring my path. It had materialized quite suddenly, but it seemed as real, solid, as the ground under my feet. Cautiously, I approached it.

Hesitantly, I took hold of the steel knocker and tapped at the wood.

"Stop! Halt! Who goes there, state your name and intentions!" a voice cried. It sounded like the scared voice of a child.

I paused a minute and smiled. I had been prepared for the nightmare-esque landscape of a Bosch, fringed with violence and death, with red fury and the bloodstains of comrades and dead lover past.

A child? This, I was completely unprepared for.

"It's me, it's Jean Gray," I said softly, so as not to scare whoever was on the other side of the gate.

There was a short pause, and then I heard a metal lock being thrown and then a loud creak as the gate swung outwards, revealing a boy of not more than nine. He was very thin and frail looking, and obviously very nervous at my presence. He had an innocent, impish sort of look on his face, and a shock of dark black hair that had been neatly parted in two and combed down flat.

"Hello, misses," he said congenially, looking nervously around.

"Hello," I replied, dumbfounded.

What struck me as odd about him was the clothing—he was wearing what I believed to be Victorian-era garments—breeches and a shortcoat, and shiny leather shoes. It was literally the last thing I'd ever expected to see. I realized I was staring blatantly and I quickly looked away. The boy didn't seem to notice, or care.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, miss. I just got somewhat frightened when that old man in the rolling contraption came calling. Mum told me never to let strangers in."

"Rolling contraption… Xavier?" I said to myself, smiling.

I was only half-listening at this point, the rest of me enthralled by this boy. Everything about him was totally unrecognizable—his smooth face, his thin limbs, the tone and lilt of his speech—but at the same time, I felt I knew him. And when he looked at me… that look….those eyes…it was exactly the same glance I'd seen thrown my way a thousand times. I would have recognized it anywhere.

"Oh…Logan?" I whispered softly in awe and disbelief as the boy eagerly grabbed onto my hand and began tugging me along through the gate and into a large, idyllic pasture.

When I said the name out loud the boy stopped in his tracks. He looked at me with a fearful expression in those unmistakable eyes.

"Mister Logan, ma'am? Are you speaking of him?" he asked, with a little quaver in his voice. "Why? Have you seen him about? He's supposed to be tending the stables, and my Grandfather will see he gets the whipping of a lifetime if he—"

"Shh, no, I'm sorry," I said quickly to the boy, kneeling down, sorry to have upset him. "I didn't see anyone. I just…mistook you for someone else. What's your name?"

"My name, ma'am?" the boy repeated, giggling as if I'd asked the funniest question in the world. "Why it's me, James Howlett! You know me, don't you? This is my papa's estate, and you're related to Rose, aren't you? She told me to be expecting you soon."

"Rose?" I repeated curiously.

"Yes, let's hurry down to the main house and I'll have a maid fetch her! She'll be ever so pleased to see you. If you don't mind me taking the liberty, you're a spitting image of her! Just like she said!"

Despite the strange name and unusual circumstances, I was almost certain by now that this was Logan. The more he talked, the more he moved, the more I could see it in him. Traces of the man the boy would become, though faint, were visible.

From what I could gather at this point, I had somehow inexplicably ended up in Logan's childhood, interacting with memories and personas that he, as an adult, may never even have been privy to.

"You shall come in and meet papa before I show you to Rose's quarters, and then perhaps later you could see the new hoop I got for Christmas…oh it's so fun, Rose and I enjoy a run or two around the garden with it every evening…"

As Logan…or James, I supposed, rambled on and on, I began to smile.

_Well, he certainly wasn't born the strong silent type_ I thought to myself as the young boy skipped by my side, chattering away a mile a minute.

I know it sounded odd, but the closer I'd gotten to Logan lately the more this boy seemed to make sense to me. Under all the rough exterior, there was an impish side to Logan, eager for acceptance, interested in engaging and winning praise. It had just been so dented, so bent and twisted and rusted that it was now almost completely unrecognizable. In an instant I felt sad. I loved Logan the way he was, I wouldn't change him, but it was the first time I realized the depths of atrocities that had been committed against him. Turn a man into a weapon. That's what they'd tried to do. They'd made their weapon, and the in the process, they'd destroyed quite a bit of a beautiful man as well.

"Miss, miss, are you listening miss?" James piped up.

"Yes," I said quickly, glancing down at the smiling young face. It was odd how he looked at me with those familiar blue eyes. I realized it was because I rarely saw that same look from Logan now. It was unguarded, unbridled affection.

It made me feel warm inside, made me feel special somehow.

As we drew closer to the mansion, I could see the warm glow of candlelight inside. It took me a moment to realize that the sky had been growing darker and darker, and now the sun hung, a glowing ball on the horizon.

I then I sensed a presence before I even heard the voice.

"Where do ya think you're going at this time o' night, eh, Master James?" a voice called suddenly from the darkness.

I literally jumped, a shiver crawling up my spine. It was Logan's voice. The Logan I knew. I turned and I saw…

"Master Logan!" James squeaked, gripping my hand harder. "Good…good evening to you. I'm afraid you startled me somewhat!"

The man gave a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. There, emerging from a clearing, stood a short man, bristling dark hair and a mean glint in his eye. He looked a lot like Logan, but different too. He had the same hair, the same wild, dark hair that swept itself back, and he had the voice. But the face…the face was slightly different, the eyes colder.

There was no mistaking it, though. The resemblance ran through and through.

"Is that your father?" I whispered to James. He looked up at me with a confused expression.

"Of course, not," he replied, somewhat indignantly. "That's the gardener, Thomas Logan. He's hired help. My papa's John Howlett."

"Oh," I said, trying to comprehend this piece of information, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together as it was happening. I knew one thing for certain, and it was that this man most certainly was Logan's father. That, or I was witnessing one of the biggest genetic coincidences in history.

And if James was unaware that the man he referred to as 'hired help,' was his father, well that probably meant…

Hmm, I thought. Perhaps forbidden romance ran in the family?

"Ain't it past your bedtime, young Master James?" came the rough voice, and I couldn't help the chill that fell over me when I heard that voice. It was so like Logan's, but different, and it scared me somehow. It held none of the warmth that Logan's did, only a blackness. Every sense I owned told me that this was not a good man. This was a man capable of great cruelty, and everything, down to his body language and the fear he inspired in the child next to me confirmed it.

"Well, aintcha got somewhere to be? Soft John's gonna come lookin' for ya, be off before I get the blame, eh?"

For some reason I couldn't stop staring at Thomas Logan's hands, like any second I expected him to sprout bone claws and run us both through. I shook my head at the ridiculous thought.

"Yes Mister Logan," James piped up. "I was just now going in. Good evening to you then," James called, pulling my hand harder and rushing me along.

It took me a moment to realize that Thomas Logan hadn't said a word about me, and then another moment to realize that he probably couldn't even see me. It was possible that James was the only one who could. That was often the case in psychic encounters, especially in memories.

As we opened the wide, solid oak doors to the estate, my eyes adjusted to the light inside. There was a candelabra hanging above, an expensive looking rug spread across the finished floor, and a cross looking woman standing at the door in a tightly corseted full-length dressing gown.

"You're late for supper James. Where have you been running about this time?"

The woman had dark black hair and Logan's icy blue eyes. She was statuesque, and she would have been beautiful, only there was something about her that seemed wary and drawn, like a tightened bowstring.

"Nowhere mama," I heard James's voice plead. "I simply wanted to get a taste of air while my allergies were gone. They're better in the evening, like papa said, and I do so miss being outside."

Without a word, just a sharp look down at her son, the woman took James curtly by the other hand and led him into another room. I followed.

The second we passed the doorway, I smelled the delicious rich aroma of roasting turkey, squash, and corn. It smelled delicious. My stomach rumbled. I'd never gotten hungry during a psychic vision before, but hey, I guess there was a first time for everything.

We were in a large, lavishly furnished dining room, with the table seeming to stretch out for miles. I was paying less attention to the scenery than to the intricately prepared dishes being lavished on the tablecloth by the house servants. Succulent roast birds, with seasonings and elaborate garnishes. Puddings and pies and saucers full of rich gravy.

Then, through my distraction, something made me look up.

I saw her, sitting at one end of the table, looking straight at me. Looking me straight in the eye as if she'd been patiently waiting for my attention.

My breath caught in my throat.

"Rose! Rose!" James cried, and letting go of my hand, he ran towards her with a smile. She remained seated.

"Jean, I see ye have arrived at last," Rose said quietly, her voice laced with a thick Irish lilt. She was perfectly calm, composed, clothed in a simple white dress with high a collar.

My whole body startled when I heard her say my name.

"What?" I asked in disbelief. It was hard enough to believe that she could see me, never mind that she'd been expecting my presence. "Waiting for me?"

"Don't be afraid. Ye don't recognize me then?" the girl questioned softly. James had been right; she did bear a striking resemblance to me, or at least me ten years ago. Her eyes were bright green and her face was round and full of youth, but the light in her eyes somehow looked much older.

"How…how could I know you?" I asked hesitantly. "I'm not exactly sure where this is, but…this is sometime in the nineteenth century…isn't it? I live in the 21st. You're dead by now."

I didn't mean for the last part to sound so harsh, yet the girl didn't seem to mind.

"Aye, 'tis true," Rose said, and she laughed, a melodic sound. "I know it sounds a wee bit silly, I just thought ye might remember…"

She trailed off, her full lips curved in a half smile.

"Remember what?" I asked breathlessly. Now I was completely lost, unsure who I was or where I was, just that somehow Logan's memory was speaking to me from beyond the grave.

Before Rose could answer, the lights flickered and dimmed like a broken movie projector. James ran up beside me and I clutched him close, afraid.

"Miss Grey, protect me," he gasped, burying his face in my shoulder.

"It's all right Logan…I mean James," I said in panic, pressing him to me, feeling the adrenaline run through my veins. "I won't let you go, I promise, we'll be…"

"….all right."

The moment I said the words, the world once again dissolved around me. Images, like slideshows, began circling me, and I saw it all. Logan's history.

I saw the tragedy at the manor, saw Logan slip to his knees as his claws emerged, bony spikes, ripping from his hands as he stared in horror. It was like being in a tornado, seeing everything at once but nothing in detail.

And then, suddenly, it stopped.

I looked around cautiously. There was a very familiar smell here. Fresh hay. And dung. And an earthy odor, like cows. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to dim light. Yes, I was in a barn.

There, in front of me, were James and Rose. It was cold—winter—and the two of them were bundled up on a hay bale. James was resting with his head against Rose's breast, and for a moment it reminded me of my moment in the MedLab, holding Logan.

James' eyes were wet with tears, but his expression was blank. Rose was stroking his hair, whispering to him.

"It's all right James, it's over," she soothed. "Ye'll soon know nothin' o this pain. Just rest James, we'll be all right."

And then, my eyes widened. As she stroked James's hair, I saw a familiar light building in her eyes.

"Oh my god," I said, softly out loud.

I knew the light because I'd seen it in my own eyes.

It was my power.

I opened my mind and then I could feel it, not just see it. See her drawing the memories out of his mind as she sang to him, plucking them out with her delicate fingers. I wasn't even sure if she was consciously aware what she was doing, just that she was trying to soothe his hurt and this was instinctually all she knew.

"Hush now James, don't ye cry," Rose's voice lilted, her hand pressed against the skin of his face, drawing memories out, letting them fly away like sheets of airy gauze, her eyes flashing with unseen light.

"All this time he thought it was Weapon X," I breathed, "All this time…"

"I—I can't—I can't remember, what happened, Rose?" James asked, looking up into the redhead's face, suddenly confused.

"Shhh…ye just be quiet now, you've had a terrible shock, " Rose said, as the light faded and her telepathy retreated.

"You're in his mind! You're a telepath! You don't just look like me, do you? It's more than that," I said out loud, perhaps a little louder than I meant to, and those green eyes instantly flickered away from James and looked at me.

"So ye do remember?" She asked me.

"Remember WHAT?" I cried, scared and frustrated. It was the first time I'd ever felt so personally confounded in a psychic encounter. I'd expected this to be about Logan, not me, and I had been completely thrown.

"Then let me show ye, Jean my girl," Rose said gently. Come close," she beckoned.

I stepped towards her cautiously. There was something about her that scared the hell out of me—she appeared to be so soft, delicate. And yet, I felt as if that was nothing more than a well-painted shell, and underneath…

I leaned closer to her, kneeling against the hay bale, and her cool hand reached out to lightly touch my face.

I felt a jolt inside my mind as soon as our skin touched.

FLASH

I was a little girl, playing in the living room. My mother and father were sitting on the sofa. My mother was pasting photos into an album.

My mother looked at my father. "This was back in the day of daguerreotypes," she commented, and my father gave an interested, "Humph."

Then I felt strong hands hoisting me up. It was my father, pulling me onto his lap.

"Look at this one Jean bean," he said. "You know how old that is? That's way back before they even had cars. They had coaches and carriages then."

"Really daddy?" I asked. "Is that when you were little?"

My father laughed and stole a look at my mother. Curling up in my father's lap my eyes glanced over the cardboard pages of the photo album.

There were people on farmlands, people with hard expressions on their faces.

"That's the old country, that's where your great grandma game from honey," my mother pointed out, stirring the paste.

My eyes scanned the photos, fingers feeling along the sharp edge of the page. And then, I saw a face that I now recognized. She was standing in front of a large family, younger than I saw her now.

Rose.

FLASH

"We're related," I said breathlessly to Rose. "You're part of my family. Genetically...we're alike." Rose nodded, as if I'd been a bit slow on the uptake from the start. She still had her hand pressed against my face.

"'Tis true, " she said, "But blood isn't our only tie Jean, nor the strongest."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

In answer to my question she stood from the hay bale, and as she did the flames rippled up her back, spreading down her arms, and her hair was suddenly bright like a million fireflies, brilliant, flowing.

"AND DO YOU RECOGNIZE ME?"

Of course I did. There was no mistaking it in a million years. The puzzle began to come together in my mind, the senseless pieces merging to form a picture.

It was the Phoenix.

There was the part of me I dreaded, caged, all the passion and power. It was here, speaking to me. I had become it many times, but I had never faced a host, and it was actually quite beautiful to behold.

"THE PHOENIX IS IMMORTAL," Rose said, only she wasn't Rose at all anymore.

"I HAVE TRAVELLED DOWN YOUR LINEAGE FOR AGES. I WAS HERE LONG BEFORE TIME AND I WILL BE HERE LONG AFTER THE WORLD AS YOU KNOW IT HAS GONE."

"Phoenix," I addressed it, and it almost felt like speaking to a God. Even from this distance, I felt affected by its psychic energy, its raw and surging power.

"You are part of me today," I said, "But why are you here in this time? This is from a time long before I existed, so what is your purpose in showing me this? And why Logan?"

The Phoenix force laughed at me as if I were a simple child, and it was the sound of a thousand church bells, a sea of crashing symbols. It filled me with terror and joy all at once

"JEAN," it said, "ROSE'S TIME PASSED. BUT NOW IT IS YOUR TURN. I HAVE PROTECTED THE ONE YOU CALL LOGAN, BECAUSE HE WAS NEEDED IN THIS TAPESTRY. I PROTECTED HIM THEN, AND I PROTECTED HIM NOW."

"I don't understand," I said helplessly. It was all a little much to take in.

"IT IS ALL THE STRANDS, JEAN, WEAVING TOGETHER TO FORM THE WHOLE. FEEL IT JEAN. KNOW IT," the force whispered, and suddenly I began to feel a growing warmth in the pit of my stomach. I felt something moving inside me, stirring, and with something between wonder and horror I looked down and realized my belly was aglow, almost translucent, like wax and candlelight.

The twins. The pregnancy.

The Phoenix force was such a powerful and destructive entity, it could only become a symbiote with the most powerful psychics on earth. Apparently, my family was an excellent source of hosts. And apparently, I thought, looking at the unearthly glow coming from inside me, that trend was about to continue.

"You really are here? This isn't just Logan's memory, I mean…I am speaking with the force?"

"YES," it replied. "I LIVE WITHIN YOU. AND NOW HE LIVES WITHIN YOU AS WELL."

"I…I think I understand," I said, my head spinning. "Part of it, at least."

"I WILL PROTECT MY LINEAGE," the force continued. "AND I HAVE REPAIRED THE DAMAGE DONE TO THIS ONE," it said, gesturing to James, who appeared to be slumbering against the hay.

And then it was gone.

Slowly the fire died out, the psychic presence in the room vanished, and there was Rose, sitting on the hay bale again in a white cotton shift.

"I've done what I can do Jean," she said in her soft lilt. "Take James. Take him back to life, take him back where he belongs."

I looked over to the form next to Rose. James was silent. He appeared to be in a deep sleep.

"Thank you," I whispered to Rose. "Thank you for everything."

She smiled again.

And then she disappeared.

I walked over to James, on the hay bale. His eyes were closed tightly, his head shifting to the left and right.

"Wake up, Logan," I whispered to him. "It's all right now. It's time. Come home. Wake up."

Slowly, the child's eyelids opened, and I was gazing into the eyes of...

…Wolverine.

I was in the MedLab again. Everything around me was concrete, real. There was not trace of where I'd just come form, what I'd just seen.

Logan looked around to the left and right, noticing the neural inhibitor and peeling off the monitor tags from his skin. "Shit Jeannie…how long was I out for? You okay? What about the kids?"

I couldn't even respond right away, I was too shell-shocked.

Logan, on the other hand, sat up from the medical table and looked around.

"Jesus, I'm starvin'. I felt like I haven't had anything to eat for a week," he said, before turning back to me. "Hey…Red," he said softly.

I glanced up at him. He must've seen the troubled look in my eyes.

"Are you okay baby?" He asked, taking my face in his rough hands. "What happened? You saved me, didn't ya?"

Oh god. How could I even begin to answer that?

"Kind of," I said uncertainly.

"Well, you can tell me all about it later n' bed," Logan said, cocking an eyebrow at me and giving me a lascivious look. I almost laughed.

"You know, you just emerged from a psychic coma Logan, maybe you better take it easy for a little while," I said with a smile.

"Nah, I just need a beer an' I'll be fine," Logan replied, grinning at me.

I leaned forward and kissed him, feeling his lips slide against mine, stubble scratching my cheek, hand stroking my hair.

We broke apart, and he studied my face for a second, giving me a quizzical look.

"You're so pale darlin'. If I was the one crawlin' on death's doorstep and you were the one rescuin' me, why's it look like you who's been seein' ghosts?" Logan asked me.

"You wouldn't even believe me if I told you, Logan," I said with a deep breath.

"Ah Jeannie," he said, nuzzling his head into my neck. "I believe everythin' you tell me. I been a fool for ya since the first day I saw your face."

I pressed my face against his shoulder, breathing in his smell, feeling his soft hair brushing my cheek.

"I know, Logan," I said softly. "I know."


	9. The Breakup

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oh nooo! Aaannngst! Don't worry, there will be plenty of wonderful sappy times coming up, but one of the things that always intrigued me about a Wolvie/Jean romance was how volatile it would be. Neither of them are known for their even tempers. That's what made Jean/Scott as boring as an old shoe. That's what makes Jean/Logan exciting as a firecracker! Read on…

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Chapter 9: The Breakup

* * *

Well, if Logan was one thing, he was true to his word.

We went upstairs and we had sex.

We had crazy, passionate "I thought you'd died and I was never going to see you again" sex. Between Logan growling and my tendency to lose a little telepathic control when Logan pushed me over the edge, I doubt there was anyone within a thousand feet who didn't know exactly what we were doing. I can't say I minded much.

And then, afterwards, Logan made love to me really gently. He moved his hands over me slowly, his mouth following, kissing me slowly and murmuring my name out loud. I couldn't take it and I started crying.

"Do ya want me to stop?" he asked, concerned, holding still.

"No…No….I just," I said, wiping the tears away with the back of my hands.

"It's all right darlin' I know," he said. "I know, it's okay, we're okay."

When I came it was intense, I scratched the hell out of his shoulders, but Logan was totally silent, his muscles suddenly tensing, pulling me close, white-knuckled and shuddering as he breathed in my ear.

Then, with a sigh, he rolled off me, adjusting the covers and lying on his back, hands behind his head.

"All right Jeannie," he said at length. I knew he'd been waiting for this moment, mentally preparing for it. "Lay it on me."

I took a deep breath too.

And then, I told him everything.

I felt possessed to tell him every detail, to relay the experience as vividly as I'd felt it, and in doing so it was a good hour and a half before I finally stopped talking.

The whole time Logan just lay there on his back, listening, his face expressionless.

When I'd finished the story with, "And then she told me to take you back, to our time, and you woke up," the bedroom fell into silence.

I looked at Logan for a while, troubled. It was a lot for him to take in, I knew. It was a lot for me to take in, and I hadn't even processed it yet, not really.

Finally, Logan spoke to the ceiling.

"So…my name's James," he said. He didn't sound particularly upset or enthused, but rather like he was stating a fact.

I said nothing.

"People have called me that before ya know. I always kinda wondered," he conceded.

"People have called you a lot of things," I said quickly before I realized what the words had come out sounding like.

Logan gave a laugh and turned to face me. "You got that right darlin'," he said. He looked at me with an unreadable expression as he spoke. His tone was somewhere in between cynical and amused. "So…my old man was some mean old dirt poor gardener who managed to get in the pants of some fancy upper crust woman, eh? Sounds familiar."

"I guess so," I said, smirking at the backhanded compliment. "And technically, that would make your last name Logan after all," I pointed out.

"Hmmm," Logan said, eyes thoughtful. He paused another few moments before he continued. "An' this whole thing… you an' me Jeannie, what you said about the Phoenix force and this other girl you say I knew, Rose…"

"…you don't remember her?" I asked. That was what I was really curious about. Somehow, long ago, Logan had been connected to me before I was even born. The thought was hard to fathom.

Logan shook his head. "No. Sometimes I think… I…" he said, and then stopped. "She stole my memories? You said she was a telepath like you?"

"Only the bad ones, the ones about your parent's death. She was doing it to save you, to spare you pain," I said quickly. I felt some kind of strange obligation to protect Rose, since she wasn't around to speak for herself and she had helped me bring Logan back.

"Still," Logan said, expression turning cloudy. "Don't much like people fuckin' with my head. Even with the best of intentions. You know that Jeannie."

"Yeah, I do," I said. "That's what bothers me about this whole thing. I love you Logan, don't get me wrong…but I don't like the feeling that we're being used as pawns in some weird game of the gods."

"Welcome to my world," Logan snorted. "I think ya just described my whole life. But I don't know if it's as cut and dried as all that Jeannie."

"How do you mean," I asked, turning on my side and propping myself up on my elbow so I could get a better look at him.

"Well, you were the one that came to me that night in the woods, but I was the one who let you, even when you were…"

Logan trailed off. He had started to look worried, uncomfortable and I suddenly got the bad feeling that he was hiding something.

"When I was what, Logan?" I asked curiously, my voice going slightly sharp.

Logan looked away and then clenched his jaw. "Nevermind Jeannie, it's…nothin', I just---nothin'."

"It's obviously not nothing, Logan, or you wouldn't be hiding it. I thought you could tell me anything, what are you holding back?"

He sighed and shot me a look.

"Look Jeannie, I don't wanna talk about it right now, all right? Ya just laid a whole lot on me, an' it's still goin' through my mind, I don't know what I'm sayin'," he said, and rolled over, his back to me.

It was so uncharacteristic of Logan that I was completely put out, worried, confused. And more than that, I wasn't about to let the father of my children, a man who self-professed he would die for me, keep secrets. It was too much like Scott, and I knew how that had ended. So I did something I shouldn't.

I reached into his mind.

I knew it was wrong. I knew it was a bad decision. It was a violation of the worst kind, but I couldn't stand waiting for whatever dark secret Logan was holding to come back and haunt me later.

It was just one word that had been lingering on the tip of his tongue.

Fertile.

"Get the hell outta my head Jean!" Logan yelled at me, just as I gasped and sat up in bed. "You let me even when I was fertile? You KNEW? You KNEW I was going to get pregnant?" I said in shock and disbelief.

"You got me pregnant on PURPOSE?"

I threw off the covers in anger and started pulling on my clothes.

"I didn't know anythin' darlin'!" Logan pleaded at me, somewhere between angry, scared, and apologetic. "Jeannie, stop it! Come back here, where the hell do ya think you're goin' anyway?"

"Don't LIE to me Logan!" I yelled. "How could you do this to me?" I felt my heart breaking as I tugged on my jeans, which I was now unable to button thanks to the bump in my stomach and grabbed a shirt, pulling that on as well.

"Listen to me Jeannie! I'm tellin' you it ain't like that!" Logan yelled back. "I could smell that you were comin' into heat…shit that's not right…it just smells kinda the same, but really, I thought maybe it was just a coincidence or—

"Excuse me?" I yelled in rage. "Excuse me, what did you say? I'm not some kind of animal Logan!" I screamed. "But you are! You obviously are! Get out! Get the hell out! I don't want to be near you right now!"

Logan said nothing.

His face dark, movements swift, he grabbed his own jeans off the floor in anger and pulled on his wifebeater so hard it ripped. He grabbed a pillow off the bed, wadded up in his hand, and without another word stalked out of the room, slamming the door.

I sat on the bed in a minute in a total daze, and then I got up and ran down the hallway after him, prepared to give him another piece of my mind. A part of me just couldn't believe he would do that to me—it was so underhanded, so dishonest, and if it was true I didn't know if I could ever look at him the same way.

I was a few feet behind him shadowed by the darkness of the hallway when I heard Logan's voice come out rough and surprised.

"Scott?" he asked.

"Hey…welcome to the club," I heard Scott's voice.

I stopped moving and threw up a psy-shield.

"What the hell happened, did Emma kick you out?" Logan's voice came through, wary.

"Yep."

"What for?" Logan asked.

"You tell me your story, I'll tell you mine," Scott responded.

"Point taken," Logan said.

Then I heard a creak, that was the springs straining as Logan sat down heavily on the sofa. As angry and betrayed as I felt, it was nice to know that Logan and Scott could now be in the same room without any kind of attempted murder.

"What the hell is wrong with us Summers," I heard Logan say, voice close to despair.

"What," Scott replied. "You mean the fact that we're superheroes, we save lives every day, and yet we can't maintain a stable relationship for more than five minutes?"

I recognized the chipper sarcasm in Scott's voice. It used to annoy the hell out of me. Now, I found it almost cute in a sort of sadistic way.

"Yeh, somethin' like that," Logan mumbled.

There was a pause between them.

"Look Cyke," Logan said, and then there was another long and very uncomfortable pause. "I'm sorry. I shouldn'ta ever touched your wife. I shouldn'ta touched Jeannie, at least not 'til you guys had made your own decision."

"Yeah," Scott said without a trace of sarcasm. "Yeah, you shouldn't have. But men make mistakes Logan. Lord knows I have."

There was more silence between them. I thought about either going back upstairs or waiting until one of them had left to emerge. I didn't want to interrupt this moment.

I heard a big sigh, and then Scott's voice.

"She saw one of my dreams," he said finally in a somewhat embarrassed tone.

I heard Logan laugh. A short, bitter laugh.

"Yer in trouble over a dream?" he asked. "Musta been one hell of a dream."

"That's the kicker," Scott said. "I don't even remember what it was. I just woke up and Emma's staring at me with this expression of hate and says she never wants to see my face again."

I heard Logan give a grunt. "Oh, Frosty'll be over it before you c'n say '24 carot,' Cyke. That woman's crazy for you."

"You think so?" Scott asked uncertainly.

"I know so," Logan continued. "Shit, she was makin' eyes at you from the first second she started hangin' round the team. Even before that, when she was a villain. You were just too caught up in your boy scout shit to notice."

Scott laughed at that one. I moved forward for a second and then stopped. Angry as I was at this deception, I wasn't quite irrational enough to interrupt this moment of rare male bonding between the two men in my life.

There was the creaking of couch springs as I heard Logan relax.

"Jeannie thinks I knocked her up on purpose," he said, and then let out a noisy breath.

There was a pause.

"Why does she think that?" Scott asked reasonably.

"Poor choice o' words I my part, bad fuckin' luck, I dunno," Logan said, his voice a growl of despair.

"Huh," Scott says. "I have to say Logan, that's surprising. I had my money on her being mad about you sleeping with Domino."

"You WHAT?" I yelled, practically lunging out of the hall. The two men jumped a mile high. So much for undercover.

In an instant, Logan was standing up, facing me. Then, in a second, he literally dropped his face into his hands and muttered.

"Fuck. Fuck. Summers."

Scott wisely took his cue to leave, grabbed his pillow and retreated in his t-shirt and boxer shorts back up the stairs. Like I said, Scott may not have been the best husband, but he was a smart man. He could tell when shit was about to go down.

"You slept with Domino?" I said, feeling tears beginning to form behind my eyes.

"Look darlin'," Logan cried, and I could see in his eyes he really was desperate. "It's not what you think! It was way before we ever happened, you were still with Scott. I swear, it was just about sex!"

In a second, Logan knew exactly the wrong words had come out of his mouth.

I picked up a vase with my TK and hurled it at him.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" I screamed.

Logan ducked and it smashed against the wall.

"Have you lost your fuckin' mind Jeannie?" He yelled back. "What the hell is wrong with you? Stop that! Get a fuckin' grip!"

"What the hell is wrong with ME? What the fuck's wrong with you! DOM? Really? Did you try and get her fucking pregnant too?" I yelled in a rage, picking up all the objects my mind settled on and hurling them in Logan's direction.

In a second his claws were out and with a SNIKT and several framed photos and a bowl that formerly held fruit were in shreds and pieces at his feet.

"You better stop this shit right now Jean," he growled at me, and it struck a chord of fear into me. There was something so primal about Wolverine, and though I knew he'd never harm me, seeing his face dark, claws out, sent panic signals somewhere deep in my brain.

"Or what?" I asked, taunting him. "You're gonna slice me up? Go ahead you fucking sorry excuse for a man, do it. Nothing else has ever stood in the way of you getting what you wanted, has it!"

"You're outta your head right now Jean," he replied, voice low and dangerous. "So I ain't gonna listen to what you're sayin' or mind that you're throwin' shit at me…but DON'T push me." The words were like molten lava.

My whole body was trembling and I reached for something, anything that could stab him in the heart the way he'd just impaled me.

"Scott was so right about you," I said in a low, cruel voice, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm sorry I ever met you Logan. I'm sorry this ever happened. It was all a mistake."

I could see it really hurt him. It really, really hurt him and I could sense it so strongly in the room that I almost took a step back. He had an almost physical reaction to my words, like I'd hit him in the gut. I could see him struggle to maintain control for a second struggle to breathe.

When he did speak it was in a very quiet voice.

"We're about to do somethin' here that we're gonna regret. I know you ain't meanin' all the things you say, but I'm not about to let you stand here and rip my heart out for no reason. So I'm leavin' now."

Taking slow, deliberate steps, he walked towards the front door.

I said nothing, just stood in impotant rage, my mind and body a complete mess.

"You call me when you got your head on straight," Logan said to me in that same odd, preternaturally calm voice. "I won't be back 'til then."

He stood at the door for a moment.

"Fucking run away Logan. Go ahead," I said with acid in my voice.

He stood and for a split second I thought he was going to lose it. But he didn't.

Logan turned and he walked out the door. Then, ten seconds later I heard him howling outside and I heard him smashing, cutting, brick and stone. A few seconds later I heard his motorcycle peel off into the night.

I stood there, in the middle of the wrecked living room.

There were students looking down at me from over the banister, woken up by the commotion. They were staring down at me like I was circus freak and they were eager spectators in the first row, eyes jeering at me.

I felt so completely empty. I felt like a wasteland.

Ignoring all the students in their pajamas gawking and leering at their professor having just been walked out on, I made my way slowly up the steps, walked to my room without making eye contact, and shut and locked the door.

Then, and only then, I started sobbing.


	10. Guilty As Charged

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow… I didn't mean for the angst to extend for so long, but this chapter just kept writing itself! Can Jean live without Wolverine? Can Wolverine live without Jean? Can Emma live without self-deception? Find out!

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Chapter 10: Guilty as Charged

* * *

There are some things I hate to admit about myself, and one of them is the fact that I've been known to be a snob. I could blame it on a lot of things; being raised in an upper-middle class family, possessing enough power to distinguish the sun—there may have been other contributing factors as well, but the fact remains that I've been known to climb on my high horse from time to time.

I used to be one of those people who looked down on single mothers. I would see the younger girls at school who'd gotten pregnant by mistake. Invariably, the father of the child was out of the picture. I'd used words like reckless. Tawdry. Irresponsible. I'd feel pity along with a little bit of spiteful schadenfreude, secretly thinking they'd gotten exactly what they deserved.

I never in a thousand years thought it would happen to me. Maybe if I did I would've been a little kinder, more understanding, because now here I was, pregnant and utterly alone. In a sea of people, I was lonelier than I could have imagined possible. I had no one to turn to.

Logan had been gone for a seven days, but I had become the gossip of the school overnight. There was no doubt everyone knew about the pregnancy and the circumstances surrounding it now, after our very public fight. No one even bothered to keep it a secret—I heard whispering in the halls, awkward glances and even gawks in my direction. I'd intercepted several notes speculating on the whole situation, from, "I heard they were doing it out in the woods all last semester, Beak said he saw them once!" to "Logan left her because she said she still loved Scott!" I'd even heard a rumor that the students had jokingly taken sides of either "Team Cyclops" or "Team Wolverine." I'd even seen TC and TW scribbled on desks, like a competition. Like it was some kind of funny game.

I didn't care to comment on that one. Or think about it any more than I had to. My life was a joke now, it was a circus, I got it. Thanks. Moving on.

On the outside, I appeared pretty normal. For those seven long, agonizing days I continued teaching and planning for missions. I was still part of the team. I caught Scott looking at me with concern and pity in his eyes once or twice and almost lost it, but on the surface, I kept it together.

On the inside…it was all I was doing just to survive. It took all my energy and fortitude to force myself out of bed in the morning, put on the mask of calm and teach to a class full of snickering, whispering kids.

I cried at night, every night.

What I was doing in private was sick, and what made it worse was that I knew it. I was still sleeping in Logan's room. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to move out. Everything in there smelled like him. I tortured myself senselessly, breathing in the scent of him on the sheets, wearing his flannel shirts to bed, and even when I touched myself I thought of his hands. The worst part was that I was still so angry at him, so betrayed. I didn't want to be in love, I didn't want it, but my heart wouldn't listen. It was twisted and unhealthy, it wasn't helping me at all, but I didn't know any other way to cope.

In a way, I knew I couldn't blame the students for their reaction. I knew they looked up the X-Men like role models, like celebrities. They saw us as the ultimate achievement, the class presidents—the perfect, powerful, attractive mutant poster-children. The fact that I had done something so imperfectly human probably rattled them more than they consciously admitted.

It was always upsetting to find out that underneath, heroes were just ordinary people too. I was being punished because I wasn't perfect.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, Emma walked up to my desk during a free period. She was really the last person I wanted to see on a good day, never mind when my life had just turned to shit. I ignored her as she stalked towards me in those damn hooker stilettos she seamed to wear around the house. Whatever she'd come for—to gloat about picking the better man, to deliver me pity—I wasn't interested.

"Congratulations, Jean," Emma said to me in that irritatingly haughty voice, quirking one carefully waxed eyebrow and laying something down in front of me.

"For what, Emma," I asked in a tired monotone. I picked up the magazine she'd laid down before me. It was an _Us Weekly_. I stared at the cover. It proclaimed that Angelina had caught Brad talking to Jen and there had been a fight on three way calling.

Then I looked at the sidebar. There was a picture of my face. I recognized the photo as one we'd done for media publicity several years ago. It was the equivilant of glamour shots—I was in full costume, giving the camera a wink and a sexy smile. It was cheesecake. Underneath, the headline proclaimed, "WOLVERINE IS THE FATHER! More on page 32!"

I started at the magazine. So now the whole nation thought I was a whore.

I couldn't take it.

I just couldn't take it anymore, it was too much for me to handle.

I put my head down on my desk, and I started sobbing. I didn't know what else to do, I couldn't hold it together anymore. It was out of my control, it was awful—I was lovesick, lonely, a target for everyone's cruel remarks—I had pregnancy hormones running through me, I woke up every morning and greeted a bucket by the side of the bed—and now this. It was the last straw that.

I cried loudly, not caring who heard. I actually forgot Emma Frost was in the room as the tears stained my blotter, blurred the ink on my notes.

It was only at the touch of a hand on my shoulder that I looked up into Emma's face. She looked very uncomfortable and confused.

She stared at me like she had no idea what to do. I guess she hadn't been expecting this.

"Are you happy now?" I asked her, wiping my eyes and seeing the mascara smeared on my hand. I'm sure my face looked like a disaster. "Are you happy now? Is this the fucking greastest day of your life Emma? Are you and Scott going to toast champagne glasses now?"

Emma didn't reply for a moment.

"Jean darling…" she began hesitantly, and stopped. "I…" she said, and her voice sounded different, more uncertain. "I hope you haven't been taking my attempts to discredit you too seriously," she said. "It's not…it's not what I meant."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, tears angrily spilling out of my eyes. "My mistake. As if stealing my husband wasn't enough—here I was thinking you were just waiting for me to walk around with a scarlet letter on my chest and be the laughing stock of the school and you finally got your chance."

"No, you misunderstand," Emma said, and then she silently knelt down, until her face was closer to mine.

"I… I… was not always the woman you see now before you," she began. I didn't say anything. Jesus, Emma trying to make me feel better, I must be a complete train wreck. I wasn't crying as hard, but I was breathing in little hiccupping breaths.

"In fact Jean…I was ugly. I know that's very hard to believe seeing me now, but it's true. In order to get to where I am now…to become who I am now, I had to do everything to claw my way from the top. I had the finest surgeons, the best tailors, the trainers of the stars and the most expensive and elite skin treatments and anti-aging elixirs."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better somehow?" I asked.

Emma ignored me and continued.

"I came here, to the X-Men, and I saw you. You had Scott, you had a whole team in love with you. You threw your hair around, you sashayed your way about in that tight little uniform and… you didn't even have to try. You had the world at your fingertips and you never appreciated it, not one bit."

Her tone was unapologetically disgusted and bitter. I was not aware that I had sashayed, ever, but somehow Emma's comments were actually making me feel better.

"But I digress, Jean," she said. "The point is… I would've given anything…all my wealth, all my power, anything…to have Scott Summers look at me the way Logan looks at you."

There was a silence between us. I really was taken aback by this comment. It took a few seconds to realize that in some small way, Emma had in fact just bared her soul to me. Why, I wasn't sure, but I was still grateful for it.

"Thanks Emma," I said quietly.

"Yes, well," Emma said quickly and loudly, "I simply had to say something to make you feel better Jean, I'm afraid I'd get the blame if you'd impaled yourself on a fountain pen or some such nonsense after I'd left in the room. Don't expect something like this to happen again."

And with that she stood up and did a short turn on her heel before glancing back.

"Ever!"

She marched out the door.

I sat there, wet notes and a crumpled copy of a tabloid in front of me, feeling strangely comforted. A second later I heard a knock at the door.

"Do you want your gossip magazine back?" I called, just as Kitty opened the door and walked purposefully in. She didn't look too happy.

Actually saying she didn't look happy was the understatement of the year. She looked as if she was carrying an entire thunderstorm in with her.

"What are you talking about?" she asked in an annoyed tone.

"Oh," I replied, hoping my face didn't look too puffy from the crying. I knew Kitty was part of the team, but I couldn't help thinking of her as one of the students, I'd known her still she was a teenager. "I'm sorry, I thought you were Emma."

"Thanks a lot," she said with sarcasm, and sat down, a determined look in her eyes.

"You look angry about something," I commented, stating the obvious.

"Really. Well, you're damn well right Jean," she said. "I've seen Logan."

The words sent a shock through me, but I managed to remain composed.

"Oh?" I asked casually.

Kitty practically leaped out of her chair. It was not an expected response.

"Oh?" she cried. "That's what you say? Oh?"

I looked at Kitty, hard. Kitty Pryde was generally a smart, sensitive girl, but she was obviously seething about something right now and it seemed to be directed at me. It was not characteristic of her at all.

"Okay, what am I supposed to say?" I asked her, playing the passive-aggressive card since I wasn't sure what this was all about. I liked Shadowcat a great deal, considered her a good friend and loyal teammate, but I was really, really not in the mood to be argued with.

"How about asking me where I saw him," she countered, words razor sharp.

"Fine, where did you see Logan?" I asked.

"Funny thing Jean. I saw him last night, when I was taking an exit off the Intersate. He was lying on the side of the road puking his guts out. I'm glad I saw him in the headlights, or he'd probably be waking up in the morgue this morning scaring the hell out of some technician."

"What?" I asked, shocked.

"Do you know how much alcohol it takes to make Logan sick, nevermind make him pass out?" Kitty asked me accusingly.

I didn't answer; she knew as well as I did.

"So he's out getting drunk to deal with his problems, that's great to know," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Will you get off your fucking throne Jean? You're killing that man!" Kitty yelled at me.

I was so shocked that she'd just yelled at me I didn't say anything at all. She continued, voice shrill.

"Maybe you know Logan better than I do, but I know a side of him you probably don't see. All these years, all I've heard is Jean Grey this Jean Grey that. I just want Jean to be happy. I can't stand seeing her cry. I don't matter, it's Jean that matters."

"Well if I matter so damn much, why is he gone?" I retorted.

"I really don't think you understand what I'm saying," Kitty hissed through her teeth. "Logan has had some of the most horrible things any human or mutant has ever endured happen to him over his lifetime. He's been shot, stabbed, burned alive. He's had his wife murdered, lost countless friends and loved ones. But if I ranked the top five things that have wounded him the most deeply, they would all be you."

"Me? Why the hell would they be me? What have I done that beats getting burned alive exactly?" I asked, annoyed that I was being accused of a crime I knew nothing of.

"He LOVES you, for some reason I'll probably never understand," Kitty said, eyes flashing. "The day that you and Scott got married…God, he was a mess. But he kept quiet because he knew it was a big day for you. And I've had to stand by for years and watch you tease him like some kind of junkyard dog. Poking him and prodding him and giving him a little taste then always backing up, out of reach. You're sick!"

I was totally silent at this point while Kitty continued on her tirade. She obviously had a lot to get off her chest. This was not something she'd thought up overnight; it had been building for years.

"You weren't there to see him afterwards, all those times you hurt him Jean! You didn't deal with it! You didn't see the expression on his face. You didn't see the way he covered up all his pain with jokes and lies and booze. I hated you Jean, I HATE you for it. What you did to him—it's cruel!"

She took a deep breath.

"Why's he gone? He's gone because he thinks you don't want him here. He's trying to act in your best interest and he's destroying himself in the process. I know he's got a healing factor but even that doesn't make him immortal. You are killing him Jean. And if he dies, it's going to be your fault. You'll be a murderer Jean, without even lifting a finger."

She stopped talking. It was certainly a heavy load she'd just unburdened onto me. In some part of my mind, I began to feel terribly guilty. I'd always just thought the flirtation between Logan and I was innocent, something to be enjoyed from time to time. I never realize I'd been pushing him so far, playing with him so callously.

Suddenly, the encounter our first night in the woods had made more sense. His reluctance, then his dogged return to me night after night, even as I left him and went back to bed with Scott.

I began to feel very sick inside and it had nothing to do with pregnancy.

"Look Kitty," I said, laying my hands out on the desk. "I love him, all right? I can't stand having him gone. Every single day I wake up and I regret what happened. But he lied to me, he betrayed me, he—"

"Got you pregnant on purpose? That's the rumor I've heard anyway. Jean, did you ever really think that through?" Kitty questioned.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well I don't know what form of birth control you were using, but I'm guessing you guys weren't discussing that back then. I'm guessing he just assumed you knew what you were doing, and if he knew it was a fertile time of the month, he probably figured you had it covered."

I sat and thought about that for a second.

"It takes two Jean, you of all people should know that. He didn't force himself on you, and he didn't… I don't know…replace your pills with tic tacs or poke holes in all your condoms or whatever. Did he?"

"No…" I said, and I was slowly feeling both guiltier and more panic-striken at the same time.

"This is what you do Jean. I've seen you do it a hundred times. You create these messes and then you leave them for other people to clean up. I'm tired of it. He's a person, not your pet. He's got feelings, just like the rest of us. You can't dump him by the side of the road and then go into this 'woe is me' routine. Other people may buy it but I'm not. I'm his friend."

"I want to see him," I said, suddenly, quickly. I hadn't even known it was going to pop out of my mouth but it did.

"That's the first smart thing I've heard you say in a long time," Kitty replied. Her words stung, and a part of me got mad, but another, bigger part decided to ignored it.

"Where is he?" I asked, worried. I imagined him lying by the side of the road, crawling down stretches of empty highway, punishing himself for his crimes. It was not a pleasant vision, and having been the source of Logan as martyr really didn't make me feel better.

"He's currently knitting himself back together at the Dew Drop Inn, cheap place next to that truck stop by the paper mill."

I knew the place she was talking about; it was a rough part of town.

"And I do mean knitting himself together. He was so messed up by the time I hauled him into my car he didn't even know who I was. He's lucky I found him first and not Weapon X or Magneto or somebody. God knows what would've happened to him then."

I said nothing. Kitty gave me a dirty look.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to haul 300 pounds of bloody adamantium into a Toyota? Never mind what my back seat looks like now?"

I looked down, an expression of terrible guilt on my face.

"Can you arrange a meeting?" I asked. "Tell him I'm going to see him?"

"Yeah," Kitty said. "I can. But don't screw it up, because this is the last time I'll help you with something like this. You need to stop feeling so goddamn sorry for yourself all the time and be appreciative of what you have. Logan is a great man. The best."

"I know," I said, "I know… I just…"

"He can be an idiot, yes. He makes some really dumb mistakes sometimes, and he says things that make me want to strangle him, but for some reason he's stuck to you like white on rice. He thinks you're the greatest damn thing since sliced bread, and good luck finding another man like that, ever again."

I realized what she was saying was true. Maybe that's what had been missing with Scott. We were together because it seemed right--- two mature, well-mannered, successful adults. But though he'd loved me, I never got the sense that I was irreplaceable to him. In fact, sometimes I got the sense that it had just been the right place and the right time, and I just as easily could have been some other pretty, smiling girl who he swept off his feet and took to the altar.

"Let's go," I said to Kitty, standing up from my desk resolutely, all my tears and hopelessness forgotten.

"What, now?" she asked, surprised.

"Yep. I've been foolish about this for long enough. I'm ready. I've got to see him. You're driving."

Kitty stared at me, and her eyes softened a little, and I saw something that might have been admiration.

"Maybe what Logan's been saying about you all these years… well… maybe there's something to it," Kitty said to me. "Peace, Jean?"

I took her hand. "Peace, Kitty. I can't say I liked getting chewed up and spit out like that, but I needed it. I've been drowning in self pity lately and I don't know how far under I would've sunk without your honesty."

Kitty smiled at me. "All right. Follow me. We'll get you to the canucklehead in no time, I promise."

As I followed Kitty out the door, for the first time in seven days, I felt all right.


	11. Healing Factors

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'd like to just say thanks for the reviews! I always love 'em! It's thanks to you this story is alive! I'm also glad to say the angst is coming to a close, but the drama has just begun…so march on, fearless readers…

* * *

Chapter 11: Healing Factors

* * *

Kitty dropped me off at an old-fashioned diner next to the Dew Drop Inn. She'd said she'd wanted to talk to Logan for a minute before we met up again. I asked her why it had to be a diner, and not the hotel.

"Oh please, Jean," Kitty countered, giving me a look. "You know exactly why. With you two it's always the same, and unless you're in public you're going to end up fighting or having sex. Or both."

She had a point.

"And sometimes even in public," I admonished.

"When did you grow a sense of humor, Jean?" Kitty asked me, smiling a little.

I shrugged.

"Must be Logan rubbing off on you. I kinda like it," Kitty mused. Then she turned and left me at the door of the diner and got back in her car.

She really wasn't kidding about the back seat, by the way—it was pretty grisly. There was plenty of blood, Logan's blood, covering the upholstery and I tried not to look at it or think about it too much. I was still pretty nauseous and I really didn't think throwing up on Kitty's dashboard was really going to help cement our renewed friendship.

I walked into the diner and sat down at a booth. There was the smell of pastries in the warm, still air. There were two ceiling fans circling slowly above me, and a black-and-white checkered floor. It reminded me of the kinds of places I'd gone to as a child when my family took road trips. There was even a little penny-candy machine n the corner. It made me feel comforted somehow. And if I'd ever needed to feel comforted, this was it.

I ended up ordering a piece of pie, intending it as nothing more than a conversation piece, but I ended up eating the whole slice out of nervousness. _What's taking so long_, I thought anxiously to myself. Was there some kind of problem? Maybe Kitty was wrong and he didn't want to see me after all?

After the pie was gone, I began to shred my napkin into little bits on the table, just to give my fingers something to do.

Then, I heard a soft ding as the door to the diner opened.

There was Logan: jeans, cowboy boots, wife-beater, and flannel shirt. I can't say he looked too worse for the wear either, especially after the story Kitty had relayed. At that moment, I desperately wished I had a healing factor. The pie was not sitting too well with me anymore, and my nervousness jumped up several notches as Logan came closer.

"Hey Jeannie," Logan said, his voice causing my stomach to turn as he gave me a soft look and sat down across from me.

"Hey Logan," I replied, and then immediately jumped out of my seat and made a dash for the bathroom.

When I was done puking, I came back wan and pale-faced to slump down across from him. We were the antithesis of each other at that moment; he looked perfectly calm, body language relaxed, one elbow propped on the back seat of the booth, while I probably looked like death.

"You okay darlin?" he asked.

"I will be once I get out of the first trimester. At least that's what Hank says," I replied with some chagrin. I suppose part of me had wanted to dazzle Logan with my beauty, and that certainly was not going to happen now. I had wanted to be the calm in-control one here, but our roles were clearly reversed.

"You still mad?" was the next question Logan asked, trying to look me in the eye.

I looked up at him to answer it, and then shifted my eyes back down.

"Logan," I started. "I love you…"

"But?" he finished my sentence, eyes looking sad.

"But you drive me up the wall!" I said to him in an outburst. "I don't know what it is about you Logan that gets under my skin, but—when I see you, it's like lighting a match. I'm not myself. I love you, I hate you, I want you, I want to kill you…"

He sat there listening to me with what could have been a half-smile on his face, but he knew better than that. I had his full attention. I continued.

"Something about you makes me want you to just throw me down and take me. I always wanted that, even back when I was with Scott. I'd always be disgusted with myself for feeling that way. I'd hate you for it. Then I'd hurt you and that would make me hate myself, like a vicious cycle."

Logan took a deep breath, pulling his arm off the seat and leaning forward on the table on both forearms.

"And then I'd try and avoid you but that wouldn't work because you'd come sniff me out and start talking to me with that flirtatious innuendo and looking at me in that dirty way of yours,"

Logan chuckled and I threw him a mean look.

"And then I finally couldn't take it anymore and I gave in, I gave in to you. And it was so good Logan. The sex, the companionship, the love, it was everything I thought it would be and more, and then suddenly I find all this stuff out about the Phoenix force, and about you knowing I might get pregnant and…"

I stopped, clutching for words.

"I'm scared Logan. I don't know how to handle it. I lashed out at you, but it's because I don't know how to handle you. I don't know how to handle us. I've never felt something so strong before and suddenly I can't tell good from bad, up from down, it's…"

"Terrifyin'?" Logan asked me, eyebrows raised. I nodded. "You're not the only one, Red," he said.

"Its… it's that way for you too?" I asked. Somehow I always thought of Logan as too jaded to ever really be overwhelmed by anything, especially love, corny as that may sound.

"God, you don't even know the half of it," he said to me, shaking his head. "What you just said ta me…I know all that, Jeannie. I've known alla that since day one. It's why you wouldn't leave Cyke for so long, it's why you wouldn't look me in the eye half the time, that's why you went and kept all our passions outside in the woods instead of just letting me come in and share a bed."

"But this was what you wanted," I protested. "Wasn't it?"

"That's the problem Jeannie," Logan said to me. "Most of my life has been shit. Most of my life has been about survivin', not livin'. I never thought you were gonna love me back, Jean, it was a pipe dream. And when it happened, when suddenly everything I ever wanted just fell into my lap…well… I didn't know what to do either. I was desperate not to lose you, but I was just as desperate not ta let you see how scared I really was."

"…really?" I asked, disbelieving.

"I'm surprised ya didn't kick me out on my ass sooner. I was expectin' it. I assume it'll happen again, and Jeannie, I don't care. I know you baby, and when I picked ya I picked ya for who you are. The good an' the bad."

I stared at him. He stared at me.

"If you knew all that," I started, "Then…why did you love me? Why do you still love me, if… I mean, if you still do."

Logan laughed at me. He instantly saw the hurt in my eyes and quickly put out a rough hand to cover mine.

"Darlin', I'm in love with ya. I don't care what you do. You can yell at me, throw shit at me, push me off the goddamn Eiffel tower—I won't say I'll like it, but it's not gonna change the way I feel."

"Why not?" I demanded. This was what had been bothering me. When I was with Scott, every day was a tightrope I had to walk. I wanted to look good enough for him, be smart enough, witty enough, feminine enough, loving enough. I knew that if I slipped up, even a little, it could change us. Change our love. And it had.

What Logan was telling me—it didn't make sense.

He slid his other hand over mine, so that he was holding both my hands, clasped together.

"Because that's what real love is, Jean," he said. "It don't fade. It don't disappear just because a' some stupid fight. Real love ain't the glamour an' the Kodak moments. Real love is when you're pukin' an I'm there holdin' your hair. Its when I'm drunk dialin' you an' you're talkin' me through it. It's when we're lyin' in bed together in the early mornin' laughin' about some stupid thing Bobby said durin' combat. It's the little things. It's the mundane stuff, an' the ugly stuff that really matters. Don't ya see Jeannie?"

I blinked.

"That's how I feel about you, always. As long as you're around, I'll be around too Red. It's as simple as that."

I sat there, staring at him like he was a lunatic. He had to be, to sit there and so calmly tell me what he'd just told me. Words I knew that Scott never could have said and meant. Was it really possible that Wolverine had just given me a lecture on the nature of unconditional love?

I didn't know what to say.

Logan was either the most romantic, faithful man I'd ever met in my life, or he was a complete psychopath. It was definitely one of those two options. And despite the fact that he had a rap sheet a mile long and six claws that came out of his hands and killed people, I already knew which option I was leaning towards.

Maybe that meant I was a lunatic too, but hey. I had company.

The man was in love with me. He was telling me face to face for the ninety-ninth time. Maybe, just maybe, this time I could get it through my thick pregnancy-hormone-addled skull.

"Logan...God…I was such an idiot. I was so stupid. I want you back. I need you. I love you Logan, I do. Can you please, please forgive me?" I asked him eyes pleading.

He gave a genuine smile and got up out of his seat.

"Scoot over Red," he said, and slid into my side of the booth, an arm falling casually around me.

God, it felt so good, just to have his physical presence back.

He kissed me on the check and his stubble scratched my face. I suddenly broke out in a huge smile.

"Mmm, Jeannie, I missed ya," he said, voice a low rumble. I sighed contentedly against him, hand resting against his chest, sitting together in the diner just like your average everyday couple. We stayed like that for a few minutes, while I basked in the glow of absorbing everything he'd just told me. I supposed I'd always thought it was too good to be true, but maybe…

"So…I can throw things at you and you'll still love me, huh?" I asked. "Good deal."

Logan laughed. "Sure ya can, but it's at your own risk. I'm pretty sure you owe Charlie a Ming vase, an antique fruit bowl an' a framed picture of him meetin' with the president."

I blanched white.

"Oh God, I threw THAT at you? That picture? Oh no."

"Well… you threw it an' I sliced it into ribbons. I guess we can go fifty- fifty."

I leaned my head against Logan's shoulder.

"Logan?" I asked. "Can we go home now?"

"I been waitin' for you ta say that. Sure thing darlin," he replied with a smile.


	12. School of Hard Knocks

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I included this chapter basically because it was just fun to write. It's kinda nice to have periods when everything going well and the Redship is sailing along like a luxury liner…and you know the X-Men, it's not going to last for long. Don't think the evil forces vying for the x-fetuses have been gone or forgotten…and that's enough foreshadowing for now!

* * *

Chapter 12: School of Hard Knocks

* * *

I opened my eyes in complete bliss.

I couldn't remember feeling this good in a long time.

There was a solid, warm arm curled around me, and a lock of dark black hair trailing across my face.

"Mmm," I said, and moved closer to Logan.

He stirred in his sleep. His hand came up and lazily caressed my breast, giving it a little squeeze that made me exclaim a soft, "oh!" and then trailed down my hip and finally rested on the small but now pronounced bump of my stomach.

"Morning guys," Logan murmured sleepily.

I smiled. "Guys? How do you know they're not girls?" I asked him.

"Dunno," Logan said, pulling me in but keeping his eyes closed. "If I'd called them girls you woulda thought I was talkin' about your boobs and gotten all mad."

There was a two second pause and then I burst out in laughter.

"Wake up you big oaf," I said, swatting at him. "You don't even know what you're talking about, you're still half-asleep."

"Mmmm…helluva good dream though," he said. Still keeping his eyes closed, Logan rolled me on top of him and I could feel against my thigh that he wasn't bluffing.

"Jesus Logan, again?" I said. "We did it four times last night. Do you remember that? Four. I'm surprised you didn't have to go see Hank for dehydration."

"Ohhh, why'd ya have to mention HIM Jeannie?" Logan said with a painful expression on his face. He finally opened his eyes and suddenly he was looking into mine.

I smiled.

He pulled my face down and kissed me, running his hands through my hair and down my back.

"Stop it Logan," I whispered. "You getting me wet and I have a class to teach in twenty minutes."

"Call in sick, Jeannie," he urged, pushing his hardness against me and making me seriously lose my resolve for administering higher education to anyone but the man underneath me.

For a second I gave in to him, the two of us kissing, bodies intertwined, but then with reluctance I pushed myself off of him.

"Sorry, it'll have to wait 'til after 2:30 Mr. Logan," I said, climbing out of bed. "And don't growl at me like that! Don't think every time you growl I'm just going to crawl under the covers and screw your brains out."

"I like it when ya talk dirty, Jeannie, tell me more," Logan said. He was stretched out on the bed, head turned to the side to face me, eyes twinkling.

I rolled my eyes in exaggerated exasperation. "You're incorrigible," I said to him.

"Oh, hey Jeannie," Logan said, suddenly rolling out of bed, standing up, and giving a sort of annoyed look at the tent in his boxers. "That reminds me… I kinda wanted ta give a guest lecture to your class today. That all right with you?"

I stopped in the middle of hooking my bra and gave him a wary look.

"This isn't some elaborate way of trying to get me back in bed, is it?" I asked.

"No, I'm serious," Logan said, pulling on his leather uniform, and I could tell from his tone of voice that he was. "I'll just take a few minutes, promise darlin'. It'll be worth it."

I gave him a long look. When it came to Logan as my partner, I could trust him with my life. When it came to Logan the professor, I trusted him about as far as I could throw him. He'd been known to pile the kids in the Danger Room and stalk them with the lights out, after all. He employed what were known as more "unconventional" teaching methods.

"Fine," I responded against my better judgement. "But you get ten minutes, tops. And if you do anything to those students I WILL throw you off the Eiffel tower."

"Noted, Miss Gray," Logan said, throwing a devilish look in my direction.

Then, uniform half-off half-on, he pushed me up against the dresser and fucked me completely senseless for five of the most intense minutes of my life that left me moaning his name and God and Jesus all in the same sentence.

"Damn it. Logan! What did I tell you," I said afterwards, rushing to the bathroom so I wouldn't ruin my skirt. "God, now I'm gonna be late. You never listen to me!"

"Sorry Jeannie!" he called with a wide grin that showed his sharp canines, obviously not sorry at all. "Ya just looked so sexy when you put on your 'Professor Gray' outfit, I couldn't help myself."

I was still tugging at my skirt irritably as I entered the classroom with Logan in tow.

The second we both walked in the class quieted down in an almost eerie way.

Of course they did; this was probably better than the final "Rock of Love Bus" episode to them. Both of us, the talk of the school, here at the same time. Wolverine, the badass who had stolen Cyclops' wife—me-- the woman formerly known as Jean Grey and now apparently seductress, temptress, and whore of the earth. At least that's how it had been presented in the media and pretty much everywhere else lately. I was almost getting used to it by now.

I cleared my throat. "Hello class. It's Monday, welcome back!" I said. "I know I said we had a lecture on Psychic Theory and the Practice of Telekinesis today, but I'm going to take ten minutes out of our schedule to let Professor Logan have a word with you."

Having said that, I sat down at my desk. Logan strolled over, pushing my teaching binder and notebooks aside, and sat on top of it.

"Hey," he said, by way of greeting the class. "I'm guessin' most of you know me, either from advanced combat, or possibly yer nightmares," he grinned and some of the students grinned back.

"Either way, I got a little somethin' I need to say."

The class listened with anticipation in total silence. I was a little bit annoyed. They never got that quiet for me.

"I been hearin' a few things around here lately, a few rumor's comin' out, and I wanted to address it once and for all. Got it?"

Students nodded their heads, transfixed. They got it. I began to blush. Oh my god, what was Logan possibly going to say. Whatever it was it couldn't be good.

"First off: I'm with Jeannie, as in she's my girl. That's Professor Gray to you guys. We're together, she's pregnant, and I'm the father. You do the math. Questions?"

I immediately blushed bright red and tried to hide it. No one raised a hand, nevertheless moved.

"Good," Logan said. "Second thing—if I hear any one of ya talkin' about Miss Gray—be it good bad or ugly, then you're gonna be talking to these next."

There was a SNIKT as he popped his claws and the whole class jumped. All eyes were instantly trained on the three adamantium blades waving in front of them.

"Got any questions about that?"

I could hear a cricket chirping quietly in the corner.

"Jean Gray is one a' the most power psychics and telekinetics at the school, hell, prob'ly in the world. She could kick your ass five ways from Sunday if she wanted to. But she won't. Guess what," he growled. "I will. I'll hunt ya down, I'll track ya, and I'll tell ya exactly what I think about gossipin' about folks you don't know. Even so much as a word, an' yer getting' these,"

He popped out the other set of claws for emphasis and the class jumped again.

"An' you can tell your friends, it applies to them too. This is Xavier's School for the Gifted, not some goddamn junior high. Got that?"

He looked over the room, at the many young and terrified faces.

"What the hell is this, a class for deaf kids? Didja understand me or not? Hows about a 'yes mister Logan.'"

"YES MISTER LOGAN," said the collective voice of the class, a few notes higher than usual.

Logan smirked at them. "Good. Miss Gray, you may continue your lecture."

He stalked out of the room.

I stood up from my desk, trying not to crack a smile.

"Well then," I said. "We should all thank Logan for that…enlightening lecture. Please open your textbooks to page 243. We will be reading an excerpt of 'The Will to Believe' by William James. Who would like to begin?"


	13. Genetic Warfare

AUTHOR'S NOTE: There's nothing worse than running into trouble about a babydaddy, and Jean's finding that out the hard way. This ends the run of fluff, and now it's no-more-mr.-nice-fic as we are getting into darker territory in the next chapter. No worries, though, something tells me these guys are gonna pull through. Again, thanks for reviewing!

* * *

Chapter 13: Genetic Warfare

* * *

"This is a motion for the dissolution of the Gray-Summers marriage, correct?"

"Correct," Scott and I said at the same time, then looked at each other. It was an odd moment, one I'd been dreading and anticipating for the last several months. The divorce. D-day. The thing no one mentioned on your wedding day, and the thing everyone whispered about once the wheels had been set in motion.

It almost didn't feel like it was really even happening. Scott and I had been legally separated for about three months now until we both agreed that I would file and neither of us would ask for spousal support.

I'd like to say that it was totally amicable, but of course that wouldn't have been the truth. I had loved Scott for so long, doing something like this still hurt. There were still times when I looked at him and remembered what we'd had. I still saw his face as handsome, his touch as comfort. There were so many memories, good and bad. There were so many ties that bound us together.

And really, he was a good man. He was repressed, stiff, logical, and unemotional, but he was a good leader and most of the time he'd been a good husband to me. He had loved me, provided for me, protected me, and honored me. I had done the same. At least in the beginning.

I still remembered the old days when we had been the golden couple, America's sweethearts, the ones everyone else was jealous of. It was Jean and Scott forever. Or so we'd thought. Unfortunately, both of us had grown up and grown apart, into the arms of other, more compatible lovers. If I could blame anything, I'd say that we married too young. I was too naïve, too arrogant, and I thought I knew everything I'd wanted back then.

Now…it was a bittersweet moment to say the least.

The lawyer, a balding middle-aged man wearing a tweed jacket muttered to himself and checked off a few boxes on the paperwork in front of him with his ballpoint pen.

"And what is the reason behind the dissolution of marriage?" he asked us.

Scott and I looked at each other.

"Irreconcilable differences," Scott said.

"All right," the lawyer continued, flipping through the paperwork. "You're still living at the same residence, correct?"

"Yes, Xavier's Institute for Gifted Children, we both teach there," I explained.

"That will probably make division of property easier on both of you," he said, and then he took off his glasses, wiped them on his coat, and leaned back in his chair.

"What about custody issues?" he asked.

Scott glanced quickly at me and I put my hand against my bump.

"Oh, they're not, I mean… they're not his," I said quickly.

"Very well. In that case we can—"

"Well wait," Scott interrupted. "Do we know that for a fact, Jean?"

I shot Scott a shocked look. "What?" I asked.

"I mean, did McCoy do a DNA analysis on them?"

I held my look of disbelief. I honestly couldn't believe he was bringing this up now, in front of the lawyer. It was ridiculous.

"Well, no, but… I mean… we weren't even sleeping together when it happened," I protested.

"What about the time after that theatre show?" Scott asked.

I stared at him.

It was after I'd started seeing Logan in the woods but before Scott and I had separated. It was the last time Scott and I had ever made love. We'd gone out to catch a local play, and we'd both been drunk. He'd started kissing me and I was so elated that he was giving me any attention at all, I'd given in. I'd felt guilty at the time, but at the same time I desperately wanted to make my marriage work and I thought maybe, maybe the spark wasn't really gone.

The sex was all right—we were both distracted and I didn't come, but I still fell asleep in his arms. I woke up the next morning with a mouth full of cotton, and a pounding head that only had a little to do with a hangover and a lot to do with my guilty conscious. I'd showered for two hours in scalding hot water afterwards, scrubbing all traces of Scott away.

It was in fact that day that I'd made the pact to myself never to sleep with Scott again so long as I was still seeing Logan.

Oh, god, I'd forgotten all about that day.

The lawyer looked back and forth at us before leaning forward to address us both.

"This is a matter you're going to want to get cleared up before you finalize the divorce," he informed us. "As it is, I think we've come to a stopping point today. You're coming back on the 31st, so I hope that we can get the matter settled then. Thank you for your time."

He turned and walked out of the room.

I sat in my chair, not sure of what to do.

"Look Jean," Scott said, picking his jacket up off the back of his chair and putting it on. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have brought it up suddenly like that. I didn't even think of it until recently."

"You knew exactly what you were doing," I replied, giving him an acid look.

"Jean, please don't start any arguments," Scott said wearily. "We're going to find out sooner or later who those twins belong to, it may as well be sooner."

I sat there seething.

"And what if they are yours?" I asked him.

"If they're mine, of course, I'll help raise them, pay child support. We can split custody. I'll deal with it one way or another."

I stood up from my chair too and grabbed my purse.

"You really are a bastard Scott," I said, keeping my tone neutral.

"Look, I told you, I don't want to fight," Scott said, turning his back on me.

"But you want to bring out a secret weapon right in time to halt our divorce and embarrass me in front of a complete stranger?"

"Hey, you know what," Scott said, his face starting to flush with emotion, "I wasn't the one behaving like some kind of animal, having sex with Logan in the woods,"

"No, you were too busy behaving like the cheating liar you are and having sex with that cheap slut Emma Frost," I pointed out using the same calm voice.

I could see this visibly upset Scott. "Now you leave Emma out of this," he said stonily.

"No. Go to hell Scott. You fight Wolverine on the school lawn because he slept with me and you tell me to leave Emma out of it?"

"I didn't fight him because he slept with you, I fought him because he was trying to cut my damn head off! And he almost succeeded at it too!" Scott snapped at me.

"I wish he had," I spat, and pushed towards the door.

"Always a pleasure, Jean," Scott said, holding it open for me.

"Fuck you," I said, narrowing my eyes.

We left in the separate cars we'd taken.

When I got back the institute, I was still visibly shaken up. I went to look for Logan and I found him on his back in the garage tinkering with his motorcycle.

"Hey Jeannie. How'd it go?" he asked, wiping his hands on a greasy rag.

"It was a fucking party," I said sarcastically, sitting down on the motorcycle adjacent to his.

"That bad, huh?" Logan asked, giving me a look of sympathy and sitting up.

I didn't say anything, just stared at the ground.

"So what happened exactly darlin'. Don't keep me in suspense."

"I—" I started to say, and then stopped. I realized with great despair that I'd just painted myself into a corner. No way out now.

Logan stood up and gave me the eye.

"You hidin' somethin' from me Jeannie?"

"No," I lied.

Logan's expression turned into a frown.

"You're not a real good liar darlin', you know that, right?"

"Ayyyy… Logan…," I breathed, and set my head in my hands.

Logan set down next to me, the motorcycle lowering several inches under his weight.

"Look, I ain't a psychic and I can't reach in and grab whatever it is you're not tellin' me, so ya may as well just say it."

I may as well just say it. That was easy for him to say.

"Scott… he… he brought up the possibility that…that he could be the father of the twins," I said, unable to look Wolverine in the eye.

He didn't move from his spot next to me. I didn't dare look up at him.

"Well, whaddya mean?" Logan asked slowly. "You were with me practically every night an' I never smelled him on you…what's the mystery."

I felt my whole body shrinking. I really hated doing this. It was times like these that I believed what everyone was saying about my lack of virtue. I felt so much self-loathing.

"It was just one time Logan. I was drunk, and so was he. I don't remember the exact date, but … it was just one time."

Logan let out a whoosh, like someone had knocked all the air out of him. We sat there in miserable silence.

"Okay," Logan finally responded.

"Okay?" I asked, finally sneaking a look at him.

"I ain't happy darlin'. All right? I ain't…I ain't gonna pretend I'm all right with this, I'm bein' honest here, but there's no point in flyin' off the handle."

I felt so ashamed. I felt like I'd betrayed Logan, I'd betrayed Scott, I'd betrayed everyone. What was wrong with me? What made me act the way I did? How had I turned from a responsible adult to some woman who needed to go on Maury to find out who the father of her baby was? To say I was disappointed in myself was an understatement.

"Logan…What are you going to do if it's Scott's?" I asked quietly, almost timidly.

He looked down, picking at a grease spot on his hand.

"I dunno," he said.

I felt tears forming, and I tried to fight them, but they leaked out the corners of my eyes. I quickly wiped them away with the back of my hands, futiley hoping Logan wouldn't notice.

"What do you mean you don't know?" I asked him.

Logan shrugged. It was his lack of emotion that was scaring me. If he'd jumped up and waved his claws around and proclaimed he was going to impale me and Scott it would've been better than this.

"It means what it means Jeannie, I don't know what I'd do," he said again.

My nose had started running and I quickly wiped at it too.

"What happened to your big speech about unconditional love?" I asked him longingly, wanting to see the Logan I had five minutes ago back.

"I still love ya, darlin, I just don't know what I'd do," he replied, then he turned towards me. "Aw Jeannie, don't start cryin'," he said, as I burst into tears and hid his face in my shoulder.

"I still love ya, okay?" he said.

I nodded against his shoulder, but I couldn't stop crying.

Logan wrapped his arms around me and rocked me a little.

"We're gonna figure it out, okay Jeannie?" he said, smoothing my hair.

"I'm so sorry! I feel like such a floozy Logan!" I sobbed to him, and he sighed, keeping an arm around me.

"I only slept with Scott because he'd been ignoring me and he was my husband and I thought that maybe I was doing the right thing… that sounds crazy now, but at the time I didn't know what I was doing!"

"Shhhh," Logan told me.

"I only ever loved you," I said, looking up at him, looking him in the eye so that he knew I meant it.

Logan raised an eyebrow and continued stroking my hair.

"Well, if I were an asshole this is the time I'd point out that when you heard 'bout me sleepin' with Domino I got a vase to the mug," Logan said with a hint of humor in his voice.

I really didn't want to think about the whole thing Domino right now, or that particular fight ever again, but I knew he did have a point.

"I don't deserve you," I said to Logan. When I said it he snorted with laughter.

"Darlin'… you really must be losin' your head. I'm the one who didn't deserve you, remember Jeannie? And I ain't forgot. Some of the stuff you come up with…well, it makes me madder'n spit, Jeannie, I won't lie, but I'm still thankful for every day I got with ya, darlin'."

At that moment, I wrote myself a mental note. It said: Dear Jean Gray, Whatever you do, wherever you go, whoever you are with, please remember not to fuck things up with Logan. He is the only man who is ever going to love you this way. If you lose this, then you may actually be a hopeless case.

I hoped to god I wouldn't forget that.

I turned Logan's face towards me and kissed him.

"You wanna go upstairs?" I asked.

"Nah, I ain't the mood," Logan said, turning away from me. "I gotta finish changin' the oil on my scoot."

"You're always in the mood," I pointed out, nonplussed, looking suspiciously at Logan.

His shoulders moved up and down as he let out a breath.

"Look Jeannie. Ya just told me all this stuff like five minutes ago. Gimme a day or two, all right? The healin' factor only works on my body ya know. We'll talk after the mission."

The words stung me, and at the same time some fear rose inside me. I knew Logan just wanted a while to cool down and sort things out, but another part of me was whispering, saying, this is the beginning of the end Jean. You've really done it now, Jean. He's never really going to forgive you for this, not really.

I pushed the thoughts out of my head, right as Charles' voice broadcast like a loudspeaker.

"X-Men, assemble. It is time. Storm will be piloting you to Genosha, where we have picked up the signature of a missing student."

I stood up off the motorcycle, just as I heard Charles' voice broadcast to me another, private message.

"Jean, I have given this much thought, and I'm afraid you won't be coming with us on this mission. In light of recent events, and this marking the end of your first trimester, I believe you'll agree it will be safer for you and all involved if you stay at the mansion. Preferably indoors. You will be protected there."

Hearing this made me a little mad, but on basic terms I agreed. I thought Charles was being overly cautious—it was just a routine search-and-rescue mission, but I'd expected it and I wasn't really in the mood to argue. Maybe I could catch up on TV or reading, escape into someone else's drama for once.

"I understand Charles," I replied telepathically. "Tell the rest of the X-Men I wish them luck."

Logan did stop to kiss me goodbye before he left, which made me feel a little bit better, and I waved to the X-Jet as it hovered and emerged from the mansion grounds, quickly disappearing into a black spot in the sky.

Then, I was alone.

I strolled up to the dining room and ate a lemon yogurt, which for some reason I'd been craving like crazy lately. I flipped through the Direct TV and couldn't find anything good on. I perused the magazines on the table, but they were mostly Gamer magazines and tabloids, and I was trying to steer clear of those.

I decided to go outside and get some fresh air. I was aware that Charles had warned me not to leave the mansion, but I knew he had an overprotective streak and I was a grown woman, I could take care of myself.

I took a walk through the garden, humming. It was beautiful. It was a bright cold day at the end of November and only a few flowers were still in bloom.

I felt so good I walked all the way to the edge of the mansion grounds. On the south side of the grounds, there was a children's park. I stood at a distance and watched the children screaming and playing, smiling and they climbed up the monkey bars and slid down the slides.

I wondered if I was going to watch my children on that very same playground one day. It was hard to imagine; right now they were nothing more than little faceless blobs living inside of me and making me ill, but one day they were going to be actual, real life people.

I realized that it didn't really matter who they belonged to—Logan or Scott—either way they were going to be special. Either way they were going to be loved. That thought made me feel a little better.

I'd been watching the children idly for a while, before my eyes were trained on one girl. She was sitting a few meters back from the other children, slightly closer to me, and I couldn't see her parents anywhere. She was sitting cross-legged in the field, head bowed down.

I moved closer and I could hear soft sobbing being carried on the wind.

"Excuse me," I said, approaching her.

The tearful face of a young girl, only six or seven, looked up at me.

"Are you all right?" I asked her.

She shook her head quickly and started crying again.

"I can't find my mommy," she wept. "I was playing and then I looked up and she was gone. I think she left me here! I'm all alone and I'm not supposed talk to strangers!" she said, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"It'll be okay honey," I said. "I'm a teacher. Here, why don't come with me. We'll walk back over to the playground and see if we can find her or call her from there."

The little girl nodded tearfully and then held out her hands for me to help her up.

I took her hands.

"Gotcha," she said.

It happened so fast I didn't even realize it. She had snapped something quickly around my neck.

I clutched at my neck and realized immediately it was a collar. I couldn't sense anyone's minds, access my power or the Phoenix force, I was psychically blinded.

I stared in horror at the little girl in front of me, and that's when I noticed she was not a little girl anymore. She was changing. Her arms were growing longer, and furrier, her body compacting down into sort of a square shape.

When it was done, an awful creature stood before me, one I didn't recognize. It had pale, greenish looking human skin, but a beastly face, all compacted like a pug dog, and on its head it wore a battered, soiled striped had.

"If wishes were fishes and fishes were wishes!" it said to me in a nasal voice.

"What are you?" I asked, terrified. The creature laughed, a chilling whinnying sound, and then as I turned to run I let out a yelp as it grabbed my by the hair and stuffed a bag over my head. I lashed out blindly, but it was incredibly strong for its size, and it slammed me down against the ground.

"Ahhh! Let me go!" I cried out, struggling, kicking at it. My efforts seemed to have no effect, and instead I wrapped my hands protectively around my stomach.

"Get away from me!" I screamed. "The X-Men are here, they're on their way and they'll kill you for this!" I bluffed.

I felt an awful furry hand grasp at my stomach and I felt revulsion in me.

"Leave me ALONE!" I screamed, and the bag tightened over my head.

"Thing one and thing two, thing two and thing one, can do anything, anything under the sun," the creature said gleefully, and then banged my head against the ground.

The last thing I remembered was the jarring concussion against my skull as I blacked out.


	14. Captive

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for bearing with me! I had a chem midterm and very sadly couldn't write fic for a little while, but to make it up you, faithful readers, I'm adding a chapter plus several other stories! As for future chapters…I've gone (really, really) dark and now it's gonna take a turn for the mushy! Yep, expect some romance, joy 'n' cheer! It's December soon, how could I not..? Oops, too much hinting! Happy T day!

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Chapter 14: Captive

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I woke up chained.

The first thing I noticed was the smell. It was familiar somehow; it triggered a memory deep within my brain, something I recognized from childhood. It was the smell of something sticky-sweet, of hay, of garbage, the sweaty smell of the skin of animals, earthy and pungent.

It smelled like a circus.

My parents had taken me as a little girl, I'd clapped and gawked at all the acts, at the elephants in the ring, the freak show, the tightrope walkers, all of it. I'd been so young and naïve, then, so unaware of any of the evil in the world.

And now… where was I? What had happened to me? I tried to think back, but my thoughts were blurry. Inside my head there was a dull pounding sensation, throbbing to the tune of my heartbeat.

With a panic I realized that I couldn't access any of my psychic power. I was cut off, isolated, alone in my own brain. It was a dark and terrible feeling, the loss of my seventh sense. It was worse than being blind.

I opened my eyes and was almost relieved that the lighting was dim. My wrists were in shackles, some kind of metal cuffs that had already cut into my skin. I still had the collar on too, I remembered it snapping around my neck, and I felt like it was weighing me down. It was hard to hold my head upright.

I immediately thought of the twins, but there was no way to know if they were unharmed… the way I was positioned, arms held out, I couldn't even look down and see my own stomach. Aside from the splitting headache, though, I felt all right. I didn't think anything was broken, maybe just bruised.

I heard a soft hissing sound and immediately adrenaline raced through my veins. It was bad enough being a prisoner and losing the power I relied on most; that of scanning my surroundings, reading other's minds—but I knew I wasn't in here alone and that I was completely vulnerable to whoever or whatever had taken me captive.

"Who's there?" I shouted aloud. My voice echoed around me and there was a low hooting, murmuring, excited gabbling in response that made me shiver. I was definitely far from alone. The low light allowed me to only see my immediate surroundings, and all I could make out was concrete and some clumps of hay. That must've been part of what I'd been smelling. Hay.

The hissing sound came again, closer, and I jerked against my bonds. It just made the cuffs cut into my wrists more and I cried out in pain.

Then I saw it in the shadows…the same horrible thing that had tricked me out in the field. I recognized it immediately and felt revulsion rise in my throat.

It scampered towards me.

"It must drink, it must eat, it must give us this I think …" the thing hissed at me, running its fingers over my stomach and licking its lips. I gave an involuntary shudder of disgust.

Then I realized that in the creature's other hairy hand it was holding a plate with a bread crust on it. Using two long, furry fingers it plucked the crust off.

I pulled back, away from the thing as far as I could go while shackled. I was terrified, my heart beating a mile a minute.

It slithered nearer on its short legs with its squat, awkward form, holding the bread up to my mouth.

I turned my face away, eyes squinting shut.

"Get away! Don't touch me! Leave me alone!" I shouted, my voice echoing around me, and at my words there was another sudden cacophony of sound.

I felt the hard, stale bread brush my lips.

"No! I don't want it!" I cried.

"Try it, try it, and you may. Try it and you may, I say," the thing hissed gleefully at me shoving the bread against my face.

I wriggled in my bonds, panicking as it shuffled to and fro.

Then, suddenly there was a resonating clanking sound and a huge, bright stadium light flickered on.

I was temporarily blinded; vision a field of blank white, and the noise around me grew to a fevered chattering and yammering. I was shaking in my bonds, feeling like I'd lost my mind. My eyes were tearing up from the sudden reaction to light, but I blinked my tears away and squinted into it, trying to make sense of my surroundings.

I could make out a form approaching me. At first it just looked like a black dot, but as it great closer and my eyes adjusted, it became clearer to me.

She was a small, frail figure, but I didn't recognize who it was until she was only a few feet away.

"Cassandra Nova," I breathed. "It's you."

"Hello Jean," she said in her dry, brittle voice, running a hand over her bald head. She was wearing short-cropped riding pants and a loose cloth shirt. The awful creature that had turned from little girl to monster and kidnapped me slithered up to her side and wrapped its long, furry arms around her leg.

"There there, Thing," Cassandra said, patting it lovingly on the head. "I know you were only trying to to greet her, make her feel at home. To properly introduce her."

"Introduce me to what?" I asked fearfully. "Where have you taken me? Where am I?"

"Oh Jean," Cassandra said, smiling, her shriveled form turning towards me. Her teeth were so small and white and sharp in her mouth. My eyes were fixated on them.

"You've come here to help me create the latest member of this lovely little establishment I've been building."

There was another clank as several floodlights all switched on at once and Cassandra extended an arm, gesturing to the rest of the room, that had been dark but was now clear as daylight.

"Welcome to my zoo, Jean, my zoo."

I stared around me in disbelief, eyes wide. I was at the end of a concrete hallway, and on either side of me for as far down as the eye could see were rows upon rows of cages. Inside them was an assortment of genetic abominations—some with no eyes, others with multiple heads. There were wings, talons, fingers, teeth, slime, fur, skin, as far as the eyes could see. They looked vicious. They looked hungry.

"You must be of your god damn mind," I said to her, squinting against the light. "Did you make these monstrosities?"

"Oh yes, admiring my work I see," Cassandra mused, absentmindedly petting the creature now attached securely to her leg. "And you Jean dear, you are going to help me make the coup de gras here, the crème de la crème, the cherry on top."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, a fear creeping into my voice. I had a feeling I knew what she meant all too well.

"Those little bundles of joy, Jean. Of course. Don't you know? You're carrying a very valuable ingredient to my recipe. A very rare combination of genetics, one I would just kill to get my hands on. You're carrying it right inside of you, you know."

"If you hurt my children Cassandra, I swear to God I'll KILL YOU!" I screamed at her, the force of my words jerking me against the metal shackles that held fast. I winced as they cut into my wrists and I could feel a warm trickle of blood run down my arm.

"Oh I highly doubt that," Cassandra said coolly, and out of the corner she wheeled some kind of machine up to me. "It will be quite entertaining to see you try, though."

She ran a leather strap across my lower abdomen as I struggled, attached to some kind of metal device. I had no idea what it was, or what it did, but I knew that I was now not only fighting for my life, but the life of my children as well.

I started hyperventilating. I was panicking. I couldn't let this happen. I couldn't live with myself if this happened. God, it had all been my fault. Why had I been so stupid? Why hadn't I listened to Xavier, oh, Jesus.

"Just to warn you, Jean," Cassandra said. "This may hurt… a lot."

"STOP!" said a voice. "Stop this!"

My head snapped up. I couldn't believe I'd just heard what I'd heard.

The voice was all too familiar.

Standing there at a doorway on the sidewall was none other than Scott Summers. All the animals in cages around me started going wild, rattling their bars, calling out. But to me, it was music to my ears.

I swear at that moment I would've torn up the divorce petition into little shreds and remarried him all over again. Relief washed over me in waves. Scott was here. I wasn't alone, about to have God-knows-what done to my body by an arch-nemesis.

"Oh the cavalry is here now, is that it?" Cassandra Nova asked without a trace of surprise or fear. "How quaint. Cyclops, is it right? I've stopped your body from responding to your brain, but you're still able to speak. So go on. Make your speech. Impress me."

I could see Scott's arms were suddenly hanging limp at his sides. I was confused. What kind of a rescue mission was this anyway? And where was everyone else?

"I'm here alone," Scott said out lout, confirming my fears. "Use your mind, Nova, you can see, can't you. Can you sense anyone else here?"

I saw Cassandra cast a very suspicious glance in the direction of Scott, then close her eyes and take a breath. When she opened them, her expression was, if anything, even sharper.

"Why did you come alone?" She asked with an edge in her tone. "And keep in mind if I don't like your answer, I'll just kill you know and harvest your useful parts later."

"I came to tell you something I just discovered myself," Scott said, haltingly. "Something that will be of great interest to you. But first, give me control of my body back. I've had psychic blocks put into place before coming here; you won't get anything from me unless it's by my own free will."

At this request, Cassandra smiled thinly and crossed her thin, frail arms over her chest. The light was reflecting off the smooth, liver-spotted skin on her head, casting her face in shadow, making her smile almost demonic.

"Very well played," she said. "So you can deal me in, Cyclops. You may move."

I saw Scott shake his arms and stare at his hands and his control returned. Even under his visor, he looked relieved.

"All right," he said. "I came here to tell you that baby is not what you think it is."

"Not what I think it is?" Cassandra asked, obviously very amused by this game. "Why, my dear boy, what else could it be?"

"It's not Wolverine's DNA. It's not his baby. It's mine."

Cassandra Nova stared at Scott. Scott stared at Cassandra Nova.

I stared at the two of them in disbelief.

Oh my God, was it true?

"This is… unexpected," Cassandra said at last, detaching the thing clinging to her leg and looking thoughtful.

"Just let Jean go, you can take me instead," Scott pleaded.

"Instead?" Cassandra said, and laughed, a cackling sound. "I'll have you both. But those fetuses are useless to me now. Jean's more valuable on her own than another Summers-Gray hybrid. How pedestrian." She turned to me, lifted her thin lips up in the semblance of a sarcastic smile. "Looks like we'll just have to terminate, then."

Before I could move a muscle, before I could even scream, Nova threw a switch on the machine and I felt a jolt of electricity go through my body, and crippling pain.

"NO!" Scott cried.

Or at least that's what I thought he said. Later, when I looked back on the incident, I realized what he'd said was not "no," but was in fact "now."

My memory was hazy for the first few seconds, and I didn't know what was happening. I was vaguely aware of Kurt apparating out of nowhere, teleporting me out of my shackles and disappearing, leaving me writhing on the ground in pain with the smell of brimstone filling the air and my stomach in knots.

After I'd recovered for a minute or two—I really wasn't sure how long--I pushed myself off the ground and tried to look around. The scene around me was pure chaos.

All of the cage doors had sprung open and a fight was ensuring between Cassandra's genetically engineered "zoo" and the rest of X-Men. Scott's optic blasts were sounding left and right, Kitty was phasing in, out and through, and I saw they'd even brought Bobby—shards and sheets and blocks of ice were flying, reflective and bright in the harsh stadium lighting. But where was Logan?

The pain inside me was still intense, and I groaned, struggling to stay awake. I was aware I was useless in this fight, and all I could do was observe from a distance. Then something caught my eye that was a sight to behold.

Cassandra was in the center of a circle formed by Xavier, Emma, and all five Cuckoos. It hit me; they must've been here all along, shielding for Scott. Their combined power must be phenomenal, and yet, it was obvious a terrible psychic struggle was going on. Cassandra was clutching her head and by the looks on the faces of my teammates whatever was happening inside their minds was far from pleasant.

"Look out!" Scott called to me, and my head snapped to the left.

A side door had opened, and a giant shambling creature crashed out. It had a huge mouth full of teeth, two massive tusks, and what looked like rough thorns covering most of its body. It was coming straight for me. It's amber eyes focused on me with a murderous rage as it charged. I was helpless with my collar still on, frozen in place from fear and pain.

"RAAAAAGGGHHH!"

I heard a familiar roar and Logan crashed through the door after the creature, sinking his claws deep into its thorny, leathery flesh. The monstrosity bellowed and turned his tusks, spearing Wolverine and knocking him hard into a wall. He slid down limp as a rag doll.

Then five seconds later, with a good chunk of his side and possibly some of his spleen missing, Wolverine leaped back to his feet and charged the beast full force. He slashed at it, going for the jugular, or whatever this thing had that was equivalent, but the beast was too fast and closed it's teeth over Logan's arm with a terrible grinding sound.

Wolverine bellowed in pain as blood gushed from his wounds, and then I could actually see the humanity slip out of his eyes as all traces of the man left him and he fell into a berserker rage.

See, when people say "berserker rage," it sounds like a joke. Let me assure you, it's not. Seeing Logan go feral is something that's so beautiful and so utterly awful at once, you never forget it once you've been witness. It's still burned into my mind.

The speed, the agility, the grace he suddenly gains is there, but what makes it such a dark and wrenching experience is the bloodlust in his eyes. When Logan loses it, he goes straight for the kill and the utter rage, the disregard for anything but to wound, maim, kill—he rips into flesh, going for the soft parts, the eyes, the tongue, it's merciless and cold. In a way, I understand why he hates himself so much for it.

Still, sometimes while he does it, he's laughing. That's the worst. That, I wish I could get out of my head.

The beast never stood a chance. Logan carved it up until it lay, a bleeding sack of meat on the floor as he healed, his wounds knitting over before my very eyes.

And then, without no hesitation, he rushed to me.

He knelt beside me, eyes still wild, covered in blood, but I wasn't frightened at all. I could tell he didn't quite have the power of speech back yet, so I pushed back his mask, put my hand to his face.

"Logan, you and the team, you… you came," I said in a trembling voice. "You saved me, she was trying kill me, she was.. she was trying to take the babies…"

"Jeannie," Logan said, then stopped and looked down at me. With a quick SNIKT he cut the leather vice bound around my stomach and looked at me with scared eyes.

"The babies…are they…did she…what the hell did that bitch do?" Logan growled.

We both looked over to the circle of psychics. Cassandra lay in the middle of them, motionless.

Charles turned away and I heard his voice in my head, "It appears we've won. For now, at least, Jean. She's in prison, at least psychically speaking."

The Professor's words caused a bitterness to suddenly erupt throughout my mind. We'd won, he said. We'd won? But at what cost?

I knew what had been done to me but I couldn't bring myself to say it.

Logan put a hand to my belly and I put mine over his as Hank came running up with emergency medical supplies and a crash cart.

"Jean," he panted, "Jean, I need you to lie down. Lie still, I need to get a fetal heart rate."

In a state of preternatural calm, I did as he said, and knelt down to lay on the cold concrete and hay. I had a terrible sinking feeling in my soul, a terrible feeling of emptiness in the pit of my stomach. I remembered the jolt of electricity that had run through me. The pain, the awful pain.

I didn't feel that pain anymore. I felt nothing. A terrible nothing.

Hank quickly applied sticky pads to my stomach and turned on a small hand-held computer screen.

There was a green box with a straight line running through it. I didn't have to hold a medical degree to know what that meant.

"No," Logan whispered, and I could see his face was transfixed on the computer, as if somehow staring at it would change it.

I knew. Somewhere inside of me I knew. I'd known it the second it happened.

"They're dead," I said softly.

"No! No wait," Hank cried desperately. "I'm just not—I'm not getting a good reading!" He said, putting his hands to my belly, shifting the pads around. "Oh god, if only we were at the mansion now, I'd have the supplies, I'd have…"

"No…It can't be…" Logan whispered again. His face looked wan, shocked. He looked drained, all his color gone.

I sat up, wrapping my hands around my stomach. My children, they…they were gone. I knew it. Teardrops leaked silently from my eyes, but I didn't make a sound.

"Oh… no, no, no," Logan said, and he wrapped me in his arms.

I felt his embrace, I was stiff against it, unable to laugh or cry, to speak. I felt shaking and I realized that Logan was sobbing.

"Jean, Jean I'm so sorry," Hank was saying, taking off his glasses and digging his nails into his hair in despair. "God, I'm so sorry.. if I can…maybe…I mean…I've failed you…"

The rest of the X-team was all standing silently, watching, faces sober.

Logan's arms dropped from around me and he put his face in his hands.

I was so numb inside, I couldn't do anything but sit like a statue, but in a way I was oddly touched.

I realized I'd never seen Logan cry before.

We'd fought together, bled together, we'd slept together, eaten together, made love together, we'd bickered together, laughed together, made up imaginary plans about the future together, we'd been through hell and back…

…but I'd never seen him cry, until now.

Sitting next to me, as I held myself still like a stone, arms wrapped protectively around the now still forms inside of me, he cried. He cried just like any man cries, the tears running down his face, dripping out of his hands, taking great deep breaths.

Everyone looked on, unable to speak.

The only sound was Logan's ragged uneven breathing.

I felt as if I were getting smaller. Floating away. Reducing to the size of an ink blot on a page and fading to black.

I felt as if my own heart had stopped beating and I was slowly disappearing from the world. Drawing away. I felt myself, my mind, slipping silently away.

And then…just as I thought my heart had broken, just as I thought I was facing my darkest day…

I felt a kick. I felt a kick inside of me.

My whole body jolted with it and I cried out in surprise.

"Hank!" I said. "Hank! I—I felt something!"

Immediately was at my side, issuing stern instructions in my ear.

"Jean! Lay down! Lay down, relax! Take deep breaths! Hold on, I've got you!"

I felt the cold sting of the sticky pads against my stomach again, and then I heard a beep.

I looked up, mouth agape, unable to believe this could really be happening.

"Oh my god!" Hank was saying, staring at his computer screen. "It's a miracle! It's a miracle!"

Logan was staring too, everyone was staring at the small green monitor that Hank was holding up like a trophy for everyone to see. And on it was the steady beep of a strong heartbeat.

"God in heaven!" Hank gasped out loud, his glasses slipping down his nose. "I can't believe it! I can't believe it, they were gone…!"

"Don't ya see it Hank, don't ya see it?" Logan cried out in sudden joy, wiping the tears away from his face with the back of his hand and smearing a trail of blood as he did it. "It ain't a miracle, it's---" He started laughing and everyone, including me looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

"It's the goddamn healing factor!" Logan said. "They got better, they healed, they—" Logan was laughing and stopped speaking.

I sat up, confused. "But…Scott said…"

"He was bluffin' darlin'," Logan said, still smiling as he put a hand protectively over my bump.

"We got the DNA analysis back from the lab as soon as we arrived back today. The twins are Logan's," Scott said, stepping forward. Then he did something incredibly noble.

"Congratulations, you two," he said.

Emma came up to stand beside him, taking his arm in her own, and actually managing some kind of a smile.

"Healing factor or not, we need to get Jean back to the medical bay immediately!" Hank said, snapping out of his euphoria and suddenly switching back to all business. "We need to get her checked out in the MedLab and make sure she's all right and faces no future risks."

"All right," Logan said, lacing an arm under my knees and shoulder. "Hold on tight darlin'."

Logan picked me up and all of us, the team, walked out the door of that terrible madhouse and back to the Blackbird waiting outside. Never, never in my life have I felt gladder to be going home.


	15. Bridezillas

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oh, it's on!

* * * *

Chapter 15: Bridezillas

* * * *

"Agh!" I cried out in sudden discomfort. I couldn't help it. It felt awful, and really cold.

SNIKT!

Both Hank and I looked over at Logan.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "It's just a natural reaction, I just…sorry 'bout that." he trailed off in an awkward apology and quickly sheathed his claws.

"Logan, please try to control yourself," Dr. McCoy said in an even tone. "The last thing we need is someone getting stabbed to death here."

"I know, I'm sorry Hank. It's just that seein' you there…with yer hand in Jeannie's uh…well, normally I'd kill a guy for less."

"Oh Logan, grow up!" I snapped at him, mortified that he'd said anything.

I was in the most uncomfortable of positions, and that could be taken both literally and metaphorically. It was my first second-trimester exam, and having one of my friend's hands in the most intimate of regions while Logan looked on was not quite as thrillingly dirty as it may sound to some. It was more embarrassing, painful, and annoying.

Logan was really not helping. He stood there looking somewhere between angry and confused, which was not helping me to relax, the keyword Hank had been using for the last fifteen minutes.

"Jean, please, try to relax, okay?" Hank said again. "It won't be as bad if you relax."

"Don't hurt her, all right Hank?" Logan warned, and I rolled my eyes. "Do ya have to this?"

"Logan, I hate to tell you this, but believe it or not this is where the baby comes out," Hank said drolly, pulling out the speculum, and raising his eyebrows.

"I know that!" Logan protested angrily. "Hell, I know that bettern' anyone!"

"'You know what better than anyone?' What is that even supposed to mean?" I asked Logan, glaring up at him from the examination table.

"I don't know what I mean Jeannie, words are just comin' outta my mouth, look, this is the first time I've done somethin' like this, okay?" Logan said, his look something of a cross between bewildered, nervous, and overwhelmed.

Hank snapped off a glove, threw it in the biological waste container, and sighed.

"All right you two. Time to stop your bickering and become one big happy loving family. This is the moment you've been waiting for."

Instantly, all my anger at Logan melted away and I looked eagerly on as Hank got out the gel and spread it over my stomach. My bump had grown somewhat exponentially over the past few months, it seemed, and since the incident with Nova I'd felt the babies kick more than once.

"So, now's the last time to cast your bets ladies and gentlemen," Hank said, smiling warmly at us. "What do you think, boys or girls?"

"Definitely boys," Logan said at exactly the same time I said, "Oh, it'll be girls."

Logan and I stared at each other. Or rather, I continued to glare at Logan. He grinned back at me and shrugged.

"C'mon Jeannie, wouldn't that be somethin', havin' two boys runnin' around?"

"Yeah, sure, two little animals clawing up the furniture and growling at each other, that'd be so darling," I said sarcastically.

Logan laughed. "Fine, girls then. Just don't be mad when I teach 'em how to fix a Harley and drink a brew, an' kill a man in two moves."

"Logan I certainly hope you're not endorsing giving alcohol to infants," Hank said in a distractedly worried tone, and it was my turn to laugh.

"Nah, I'll wait 'til they're, what… five?" Logan asked looking at me. I shook my head at him. Served me right, I suppose. I had a chance with the team Boy Scout and I traded it in for a Wolverine, what did I expect?

"Ahh, here we go!" Hank said, running the ultrasound wand over my stomach. Logan and I both went completely silent, focused on the screen.

I could see what looked like a large yolk sack with two little creatures floating in it. They looked much more human this time, I could make out heads and arms and legs and even eyes. I was completely enthralled. I was already in love with these little things and I'd never even met them.

"Hey they ain't so much lima beans anymore," Logan said in cheery wonderment. "They look kinda like, I dunno, voles."

"Voles?" Hank asked curiously.

"Logan, do me a favor and keep your mouth shut for the rest of this," I said in a half-teasing way, although I couldn't really be mad watching those two little beings inside of me on the screen.

"So, what are they?" I asked Hank impatiently, the grin on his face infectious.

Hank peered at the screen for a few minutes, and I swear he was doing it just to keep us both in suspense.

"Well!" Hank announced, turning and looking down at me. "Looks like you were both right."

"What?" I asked.

"You have a very healthy set of fraternal twins. A girl and a boy."

"Ahh! Logan did you hear that?" I asked, turning to him. He grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "Yeah!" he replied. "That's amazin' Jeannie, it's like getting' the best o' both worlds."

"Yeah, it is, huh?" I said, sitting up on the examination table as Hank wiped the goo off my stomach. "We really are lucky."

Logan looked down at me. He had that look in his eyes, the one that made me feel loved. The one that reminded me exactly why the choice of Wolverine over Boy Scout had been the right one.

"Yeah, we are lucky, darlin'," he replied.

* * *

The rest of the day I was in a good mood. We didn't have any missions scheduled, no lives to save, no burning buildings or crazy anti-mutant groups to deal with, and the only thing on my agenda was a meeting the Professor had arranged at 6:30pm.

Logan and I went out to eat around 5pm—I had been craving Chinese food for the last few weeks—and when we arrived back at the mansion around 6:15, everyone was already gathered in the living room.

It was a casual meeting, not a formal one, but I still felt slightly guilty for being late.

"Sorry guys, traffic held us up," I said, hanging my coat up and taking a seat on the sofa.

It was me, Logan, Scott, Emma, Kitty, Bobby, Hank, and Kurt. In the center of the living room was Xavier. They were all lounging around, and Emma and Scott had cups of hot chocolate. I wondered what the meeting was all about.

"It's quite all right Jean," Xavier said, smiling at me. "Take a seat. I was just about to bore you all with my standard speech."

There was a small wave of laughter at that comment. It felt good, in that moment. We were all together, it was cold and wet outside and we were relaxing, basking in the central heat and air of the mansion, talking together, behaving like the friends we were, not like soldiers in battle.

Logan sat down next to me and rested a hand on my thigh. I smiled. It was the little gestures like that which made my lips involuntarily curl up into a smile.

"Thank you all for meeting with me today," Xavier started. "I know you're all quite busy and I know we have all faced some of the hardest, most perilous situations as of late, and I am here today to tell you with full confidence that you have all pulled through admirably."

There was a general murmur of approval to this, and Xavier smiled and continued.

"I am happy to announce I have no mission to propose today, no tasks or duties which I require of you. I simply wanted to gather you around and voice my deepest gratitude and respect for all the work you have put into making us a successful team. It is thanks to you that lives have been saved, that the perception of mutants continues to shift slowly but surely in our favor. You all deserve a round of applause and then some."

"Here here!" Scott said, smiling and holding up his mug of hot chocolate. The rest of my teammates responded "here here" in kind, and there was light applause.

Logan stood up.

"Hey guys, I have somethin' important to say too, if you don't mind Chuck," he began, throwing a look at Xavier.

"Not at all Logan! Please, speak," Charles encouraged.

All attention turned to him.

"I just wanted ta say… I know it's been different around here, what with Jeannie bein' pregnant and all, an' I know there's been some conflict…"

He and Scott threw each other a sharp glance.

"…but under that all we've still been a team, an' I'd trust any of ya with my life or Jeannie's life—an' I have, especially lately, so I wanted to say thanks for that. It means the word to me, that I got this family here watchin' my back even when I ain't around."

There was applause again.

"Thank you Logan, for that kind sentiment," the Professor said, and I could tell he was deeply touched.

"There's one more thing I was wantin' to say," Logan continued.

I sat staring and smiling, totally unaware that what was about to happen would change the rest of my life.

Logan turned to me and got down on one knee.

I think my heart may have actually stopped.

Logan pulled a small grey box out of his pocket.

My hands flew up to my chest. I was too shocked to say anything, and everyone else had gone perfectly still. I heard Kitty let out a little audible gasp. It was suddenly so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"Jeannie," Logan said on one knee, looking into my eyes. "I loved ya since the first time I laid eyes on ya, and I'll love you until the day that I die. Darlin' that's a promise I intend to keep. Will you marry me?"

I'm pretty sure that my mouth was actually hanging open. I mean—I mean, I knew Logan loved me, there was no question of that. And I knew he was in it for the long run, as was I. But somehow, it hadn't even crossed my mind—between the kidnapping and drama and missions and divorce and doctor's appointments—I'd never even suspected this. Not at all. I was completely caught off guard.

I tried to answer him and nothing came out, my mouth moved but there was no sound.

Logan looked up at me expectantly as the whole room collectively held its breath.

Suddenly a wall in me broke down and I was able to speak.

"Yes Logan!" I said, and I started bawling. It must've been the pregnancy hormones, normally I can keep it together in front of a crowd, especially in front of my friends, but I felt like there were fireworks going off in my head.

I barely even felt Logan slip the ring over my finger, and then he leaned in to kiss me and the applause was thunderous this time, with Bobby whistling and Kitty shouting, "Go Logan!"

That kiss… it was something I'll remember forever. It was the first time I really felt able to express our relationship in public, and it was somewhat of a turning point for me. It had been such a rocky road, with the affair, and my feelings of guilt and shame, and Scott's anger, and Logan's reluctant patience.

But that kiss, that kiss was like the golden seal that put me and Logan together, as a couple, as one, a couple to be recognized and respected as X-Men, as teachers, as mutants.

It was now Logan and Jean, no two ways about it, and it felt so good to be recognized, there, in the eyes of the rest of the world.

And of course, there was the ring.

It was gorgeous, a trillian-cut diamond embedded in a simple platinum band. With the shape and fiery clarity, it somehow reminded me of the Phoenix force. It was perfect. I almost couldn't believe Logan had such good taste in jewelry.

Perfect was a good word to use, because that's exactly what the moment was—Logan kissing me, tears streaming down my face, the loud approval of our teammates all around—that is… until Emma ruined it.

That bitch.

I should've known.

No, really, I should have known.

"Excuse me," she said, her high voice cutting over the din of the crowd, still applauding Logan and I.

Logan broke off the kiss, settling next to me with his arm around me and looking expectantly up at Emma. The rest of the X-Men quieted down and one by one the attention turned fully onto the White Queen. She waited until there was absolute quiet again before she spoke.

"Well, I guess this is as good a time as any to announce that Scott and I became engaged last month," Emma said, holding out her hand to reveal a monstrous diamond ring that she must've put on right before the meeting. It was too big to miss.

Honestly, it was completely obscene. It made me burn with anger just looking it; it looked just like her, cheap, ostentatious, and overdone.

"I suppose we didn't think such a—public display—was in order," Emma said looking pointedly at me as I silently fumed at a thousand degrees. "But it's high time that everyone knew. So yes, it's true. Scott and I are going to be married!"

And with that, she kissed Scott—a long, lingering kiss, and there was applause again, but I could barely hear it over the fire roaring in my head.

"What a joyous occasion; my children, my X-Men, I have never been happier to give you both my blessing!" Charles said, his smile stretching ear to ear.

"Yes, isn't it though?" Emma asked, smiling slyly at me.

* * *

I slammed the door then turned around.

"THAT SCHEMING BITCH!" I screamed. "THAT PLASTIC WHORE! I'M GOING TO KILL HER! GOD HELP ME I'LL SMASH HER INTO SMITHEREENS!"

"Whoa there Jeannie," Logan said, eyes wide. "Calm down. Don't accidentally go all Phoenix on me an' wipe out a town on accident, okay?"

"She ruined my moment! MY MOMENT!" I yelled, practically feeling fire spitting out at every word. "Our moment. Logan! And she knew it, she knew what she was doing! I bet she planned it!"

"I don't hardly think it was ruined, Red," Logan said, putting his hands on my shoulders and trying unsuccessfully to calm me down. "I mean we're still gettin' married, right? That's the important part."

"Oh my god Logan, you just don't understand ANYTHING sometimes!" I yelled at him and threw myself face down on the bed.

Yes, I was acutely aware I was being a drama queen of the highest order, but I couldn't help it. Between the hormones and this deliberate act of sabotage I was having trouble holding my temper in check. This was just too much. I had been bested by my archenemy, the woman who stole my ex-husband, in front of everyone! Anger couldn't even begin to describe what I felt.

I heard a sigh as Logan sat down next to me.

"C'mon baby, forget about her an' One-Eye, they ain't worth it," he said, running a hand through my hair. "It's you an' me, right? Fuck 'em, they're only makin' you mad 'cause you're lettin' 'em."

"No it's not just that!" I said, my voice muffled in the pillow. "It's everything! Emma's going to show me up! That's the only reason she did this!"

"No offense, but what the hell are you talkin' about darlin?" Logan asked me.

"Don't you see Logan?" I wailed. "She's going to get some huge fancy wedding gown and she's going to hire the best caterer and the most expensive quartet and she's going to make me look like a shabby cheap whale going down the aisle!"

I could hear Logan chuckle and then quickly cover it with a cough.

"Darlin' that ain't true. And you don't look like a whale Jeannie, you look beautiful. You look sexy as hell, just like always. Remember last night?"

"God Logan! Why is it that all you think about is sex?" I yelled at him, pushing him away from me.

"That wasn't what I meant!" Logan protested. "I was just trying to tell ya that you look good. I wasn't tryin' to have sex with you."

"Why not? Oh my god, it's true, I do look like a whale! I look like a huge ugly bloated pregnant whale, I know it," I said, and started crying.

"Uh…" Logan said.

"Just stop talking and comfort me," I ordered.

A second later I felt Logan's warm body wrap around me as he spooned me. He was humming something. It took me a minute to realize it was the tune to "Baby Beluga."

"That is so not funny Logan," I griped. "Not funny at all. Not even a little."

He responded by kissing me on the cheek, then on the neck.

"Stop it," I said unconvincingly.

I gave a little shriek as he rolled me over and kissed me on the mouth, putting one hand against the baby bump. I gave in and kissed him back.

"Darlin', don't worry that red head a' yours about this. We'll have whatever kinda wedding you wanna have, and it don't have anything to do with Scott or Emma."

"Mmm," I said, kissing him again. He rubbed my stomach for a second and then his hand wandered up over a breast.

"Careful, they're sore," I whispered. I had to admit, Logan did have good ways of calming me down.

"Hmm, I'll make 'em feel better," Logan offered, pulling up my shirt, and I laughed a little.

A few minutes later all my anger was forgotten as Logan showed me exactly how sexy he really thought I was, pregnant or not.

But even in the throws of ecstasy, I had one thought that had been burned indelibly into my mind. And that thought was:

Emma must pay.

Oh yes.

She was going to pay for this.


	16. She Wants Revenge

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Finals are soon! So don't worry, the story won't be dead, I just won't be able to post for a week. So enjoy this chapter, full of enough catty revenge to satisfy even the most drama loving x-fan. Yes, there will be paydirt! Remember to review, it keeps me writing!

* * *

Chapter 16: She Wants Revenge

* * *

"Bye Logan," I said, and he leaned in to kiss me on the lips. He tasted like smoke and coffee.

"I'll be back before ya know it, darlin'," He said, giving me a lopsided grin. "Just gotta take care of some stuff for Charlie. You gonna be all right?"

"Of course, I'll be fine. I know a lot of things have happened recently, but I wish everyone would stop worrying about me so much."

He was standing at the door with his duffel bag slung over one arm, leather jacket, boots, and his motorcycle propped on its kickstand in the background.

"I'm just sayin' be careful Jeannie, that's all," he warned me.

"Me? You be careful Logan! Try not to get shot too many times. I kind of like having you in one piece, you know," I said, running my hands over the rough stubble on his cheek.

"Yeah, don't worry about me darlin', I got somethin' worth comin' home for," he said, putting his hand against my belly.

"You take care a' the twins, huh Jeannie?"

"I will," I promised, and then he kissed me again and slipped in a little tongue. I kissed him back, reluctant to stop, trying to quell all the longing I felt over his departure. It was the two of us, all twined up together, and I felt like a kid in love all over again.

"Get a room!" Yelled Bobby from across the hall.

Logan broke away and scowled, "You better watch that mouth kid, before I turn ya into a snowcone."

I laughed at Bobby's quick retreat. I had to admit, it was a little harder than I thought to watch Logan go, even if it was only going to be for a couple of days. With Scott, I'd been very independent; we'd been apart a lot, especially towards the end when things got bad. Truthfully, I was used to living alone during that marriage.

With Logan, it was different. I wondered how I was going to be able to sleep without him. Logan was without a doubt one of the most obtrusive sleepers I'd ever met. He liked contact, he liked it when we slept spooned together or with an arm around my shoulder, and more than once he'd murmur things to me or grope me in my sleep. I always complained to him about it in the morning, but truth be told, I secretly liked it.

Now he was off on a mission, and I was stuck here like some kind of x-whale, watching daytime TV and eating strange food combinations. Like hummus and cracker jacks. Or fig newtons with peanut butter. Lately, the kitchen had started becoming my own personal laboratory.

I was so bored I would spend whole hours just opening and rearranging the pantry with my mind. First food groups. Then expiration dates. I was willing to be the whole thing was better organized than Martha Stewart's kitchen by now.

I waved to Logan as I watched him strut off into the distance and straddle his motorcycle. It roared to life, and he spun around and pulled off, leaving tire tracks in the driveway, one hand up to wave to me a final time.

I wondered how many countless times I'd watch Logan leave before; sometimes with remorse, sometimes with envy, sometimes with platitudes of friendship. I realized this was the first time that we'd parted with an "I love you."

He'll be back, I reminded myself. Don't get too dramatic over this whole thing. I sighed and shut the door. It was probably better to think about other things—like the fact that I had a fitting for a wedding dress in about an hour.

I went upstairs and did my hair and put on a little makeup. I had to admit, dragging around the mansion in sweatpants and maternity tops didn't exactly make me feel like a glamorous bride-to-be, and it was probably good for me to get out. Being temporarily off the team and banned from missions was driving me crazy, and left me itching for something useful to do; at least the fitting would be a nice distraction.

I took a cab to the city and got out in front of the high-end bridal shop I'd chosen. When I'd asked Logan about paying for the dress, he wrote me a blank check and told me that as long as he didn't have to go, I could buy a million dollar gown for all he cared.

I told him he'd better be ready to make good on that promise.

I was serious.

I opened the glass door and walked up to the sales clerk, who checked off my appointment time.

My dress consultant was a young blond woman who called herself "Cathy" with an annoyingly perky laugh and overly white teeth. She beckoned me to the back room and she talked on and on about my color and my season and empire waists and chiffon and a million things I could care less about. When it came to fashion, I had tunnel vision. I'd know what I wanted when I saw it.

I walked behind her, tuning out most of her chatty advice, but as I turned the corner I literally did a double take. My eyes widened in disbelief at the last person I'd expected to run into today.

"Emma?"

Yes, it was her. Unmistakable as always.

She was on top of a pedestal, in front of a wall of mirrors. She had on a long, flowing wedding gown, strapless, with plenty of cleavage and a corset waste that gave her a svelte figure.

She looked gorgeous in it, and I was instantly envious. My hatred for her jumped up several notches.

"Why Jean," she said, looking like something out of a fairytale. "What a surprise! I had no idea they sold maternity clothes here!"

My blood boiled as I tried to control my temper the best I could.

"Yes Emma, well, I wasn't aware they sold Halloween costumes either," I retorted in the coolest voice I could manage.

Emma raised an eyebrow at me. "Jealousy doesn't become you Jean. I think we both know how exquisite this dress looks on me. Don't blame me just because I've heard of birth control and you obviously have not."

I really wanted nothing more than to grab that wedding gown, yank her down off the pedestal and slap that smug expression off her face. But, I demurred.

"Uh, so, I see you two ladies know each other, that's fantastic!" my dress consultant said nervously, flashing her blinding teeth. "Well Jean, why don't we go over here and look at some amazing new imports with a drape-front neck line!"

I took all the strength I had to turn my head away from Emma and smile tersely at my consultant.

"Yes, thank you, that sounds like a good idea," I said.

I took a seat as she rummaged through the racks, and another young sales associate came up with a tray and glasses.

"Here at Mode de Mariage, we offer refreshments with our dress consultations. Would you like a finger sandwich or a glass of our vintage cabernet sauvignon?"

I looked at her like she'd lost her mind.

"Oh, uh, excuse me I didn't realize…your condition," she quickly apologized. "Perhaps you'd like a glass of water instead?"

"Water would be fine," I said, as my consultant came back with an armful of dresses.

"Here!" she said perkily. "I guessed your size and I think these shades of antique pearl would go really well with your complexion. I also chose some that are looser in the waste for your…frame," she said, quickly shoving a dress at me.

I wondered when "pregnancy" had become a dirty word.

I took the dress and stepped inside one of the dressing rooms to try it on.

I slipped it over my head and adjusted it. It actually fit quite nicely! I did a little half turn in the mirror and began to smile.

I was getting married! Sure, I had done it once before, and sure, this was not exactly the situation, groom, or timetable I'd imagined as a little girl, but I was the happiest I'd ever been in life and that was all that mattered. This wedding was going to be mine, and it was going to go damn well perfectly as long as I still had breath left in my body.

"Can you come out so I can take a look?" My dress consultant called.

I opened the door and did a slow twirl so she could see it.

"Ohhh, you look so gorgeous!" My consultant gushed. "It's perfect on you—the way it drapes, the shade of white, everything! It was made for you!"

"Oh I agree. For a shotgun wedding, that dress is absolutely fabulous. Perhaps they even have a veil expensive enough to cover your shame? Hmm?"

Emma's voice grated at my ears and I turned to see her nibbling on a finger sandwich with a glass of Merlot in her hand. She was in different wedding dress now, a layered number with a jeweled bodice.

I suddenly felt a little wicked.

"Oh Emma, you should be careful about eating and drinking in that lovely creation you've got on there," I said. "How much does it cost, anyway? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Hundreds? It would be such a shame if you accidentally, oh…spilled a little red wine," I said, right as I used a tiny bit of TK directed at her hand.

In an instant, and to the untrained eye spontaneously, the wine had sloshed all over her dress, staining the front and dripping down onto the gauzy skirt.

"Oh…oh!" Emma said, standing up in shock and surprise.

I smirked at her.

"Oh, now look at that," I said. "What a shame. I wonder how much that'll cost you. Or rather, Scott."

The corners of my mouth twitched but I managed to keep from smiling. Something deep within me was laughing long and loud, it felt too good to have the upper hand for once.

"I—I—this is despicable!" Emma stuttered, too angry for words. The two sales associates had rushed towards her in panic. One quickly took the glass away while the other mopped hopelessly at the ruined dress.

"Oh Cathy! You're right, this dress is perfect. I think I'll take it!" I said in a pleasant voice.

"Thanks so much for your time!"

* * *

I was lying in bed trying to finish grading students' reports on the best defensive uses of telekinesis in a hostage situation when the phone rang. I had been lying on Logan's bed, paper propped up against my stomach when the noise startled me. I absentmindedly pulled my hair back into a ponytail, took off my reading glasses and picked up the landline to Logan's room.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hey darlin'…" the low voice came through the line. "Whatcha wearin'?"

I grinned and settled down into the pillows.

"Well…that didn't take long," I replied, feeling my face flush.

"I caught up with the guy Charlie was lookin' for—turned out he wasn't even on the run, just tryin' to go visit his niece in another state. I'm checkin' into a motel for the night while he settles it with family an' we'll probably be back in the mornin'."

"Thank God something went right. Seems like that never happens," I said with a sigh. I was also glad that Logan wasn't going to be gone as long as expected.

"How'd that dress thing go darlin'?" asked Logan's voice over the line.

"Oh, thanks for remembering!" I said, genuinely surprised. Logan had made it pretty clear to me right off the bat that while he was going to show up for the wedding and say the vows, the rest was in my hands. I, for one, was fine with that.

For my wedding to Scott, we'd done everything together; from invitations to cake to flower arrangements; and it was a nightmare. The bickering was constant and pointless; he hated vanilla, I hated marzipan. He wanted white, I wanted red. Now, at least, I was completely in control of every little aspect and I was going to have the wedding of my dreams even if someone had to die to achieve it.

Preferably Emma.

"It went well. I think I found the right dress. You can't see it 'til the big day, though!"

"An' how much is this special dress a' yours gonna put me back, Jeannie?" Logan asked in a wary tone.

"Well…" I said playfully, twirling the cord, "Let's just say you probably shouldn't retire your yellow spandex anytime soon."

I heard a growl come through the line and I laughed.

"So really, what're you wearin'," Logan asked.

I bit my lip and toyed with the idea of indulging him.

"Mmm….well, I'm wearing that bra and panty set you like," I said with a smile in my voice.

"Yeah, which one?" he asked.

"The red silk," I said, looking down at the flannel shirt and stretchy-jeans I actually had on.

"Mm, darlin' you look so hot in those," he said, his voice low. "Ya look even hotter out of 'em, though."

"Why, Logan," I said with a smile in my voice, "If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to seduce me over the phone."

"Darlin' I've been hard since you picked up," came the growl on the other end of the line and I instantly felt a little dizzy in the head.

I used to be afraid of how direct Logan was, but I was younger and more naïve then. I'd grown up a lot in the ten years I'd been married to Scott, and now there wasn't much of anything that I couldn't face. Now, his forwardness just turned me on. He was calling me for sex; something Scott had never done and never would do, even if he wanted to.

Logan knew I liked it, too, even when I protested. I had a feeling he'd known that since he'd met me, and it used to drive me crazy.

Well-- It still drove me crazy, but in a different way. A pretty good way, I'd say.

"Touch yourself, Jeannie," he urged me. "Tell me what you're doin' while you're doin' it."

I slipped a hand down the front of my jeans and squirmed into a more comfortable position against the pillows.

"Okay…I'm touching myself….and I'm imagining me, in the danger room… I'm working out…and you come in…"

"Yeah?" he asked. "And then what?" I could hear his breathing quicken and it turned me on and made me a little bolder.

"…and I'm all sweaty from my workout…and you come up from behind and grab my wrists…"

"I'd prob'ly grab somethin' else," Logan interjected with a laugh, and I shushed him with annoyance.

"Do you want me to finish my story or not?" I asked.

"Darlin', I'm not stoppin' ya," Logan said again, and I could tell he was smilling on the other end of the line.

"Anyway, you're holding my wrists and I protest but you won't let me up. I can feel how hard you are, you're pressing into me."

"Take off your top baby, I wanna picture you naked while you're talkin'," Logan said to me.

Laughing a little out of embarrassment and a little at how hot this little phone conversation was making me, I pulled my shirt off over my head.

"You've got the most beautiful tits in the world Jeannie," Logan groaned, "Did I ever tell ya that? I could suck on 'em on all night," his voice was a growl over the phone and I almost came in my hand right then and there.

"So what happens next? I'm getting' close," Logan asked, and he was a little breathless and his tone was aggressive and I knew this story wasn't going to get finished before I was.

"Well," I said, sighing into the phone, "I reach behind me to feel your big, thick, hard…"

CLICK

There was a pause. I sat up.

"Logan, did you say 'click'?" I asked.

"What the hell kinda question is that?" Logan asked, obviously annoyed at being interrupted.

"No darling, that would be me," said Emma's voice.

I literally jumped up off the bed, topless.

"What the hell are you doing on this line?" I screamed into the phone.

"Ouch!" Logan yelled on the other end, considering I'd just screamed into his ear.

"Sorry Logan!" I quickly apologized.

"Get the hell off the line Emma, you're a sick enough bitch screwin' Cyke under Jeannie's nose, without havin' to eavesdrop," Logan said angrily.

"Au contraire, it's not just me darlings," Emma said smoothly.

I didn't know what she was talking about; all I knew was that right now I wanted nothing more than to smash the phone into her perfect rhinoplasty job.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Logan and I asked at the same time.

"Why, I've been broadcasting this entire conversation over the PA system. The whole school's gotten quite an education! Much better than Beast's health class could ever hope to achieve, I believe…"

Oh my god. No, she wouldn't. She wouldn't.

Yes she would.

"You're bluffing…" I said, as all the color drained out of my face.

"No Jean dear, I'm not," Emmas voice turned ice cold. "I suppose you were just too…wrapped up in what you were doing to notice."

"Why…" I said in a halting voice.

"That wedding dress cost Scott $7,500 and it's not something I take lightly," Emma said acidly into the line.

At that point I just totally lost it and threw the phone against the wall. It smashed with a dying ding as its pieces scattered over the rug.

A second later my cell phone rang.

I picked it up and yelled, "If you think this is over you stupid frostbitten cunt, you are dead wrong, DEAD WRONG!"

"Woah, Jeannie," Logan said on the other end of the line. "Hold up, it's just me. Nice use a' cussin' though."

"This is not a time to be glib Logan!" I said shrilly.

"Did ya just throw my phone against the wall?" He asked.

"Maybe…maybe I did," I said guiltily.

I heard him laugh and I softened a little.

"What the hell're you worried about Jeannie? Your reputation?"

I thought about that for a minute. My reputation that lay in shreds on the ground and was sold in tabloids at the front of the line at Raley's.

"You have a point Logan," I said dryly.

"Whattya think's gonna happen anyway Jeannie," Logan said. "I'll tellya. Next time ya go and teach class, yer gonna have a few of the teenage boys coverin' up with Algebra books. That's about it."

I laughed.

"Okay, okay Logan. I'm calming down, I get the point. Don't get mad, get even."

"Good. I'll be back tomorrow mornin' darlin', we can deal with this then."

"All right, I said." Then I paused and smiled. "I love you Logan."

"Love ya Jeannie," came his voice on the other end of the line.

And despite everything, I smiled.

Of course, the smile didn't hide the fact that this was far from over.

FAR from over.

Emma Frost was going to pay.


	17. Playing Dominos

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Finals are over! And in celebration…this! Don't worry, Wolvie's coming back. I couldn't let him stay away for long. And in this universe everyone knows X-Factor exists, because…well, because it's easier. Hey, a little bit of X-Factor is just what the doctor ordered…

* * *

Chapter 17: Playing Dominos

* * *

I woke up the next day half hoping to find a warm body curled around me, with Logan bothering me for morning sex, but there was no such luck. I woke up as alone as I'd gone to sleep, tangled up in the middle of the sheets on Logan's bed.

Well, I guess technically it was our bed now. Despite the way our relationship had grown, it still held some of that newness, and every now and then I'd have to just stop in my tracks and think, "I'm marrying Wolverine." I said it out loud once and laughed because of how ridiculous it sounded, but the truth was he made me happier than Scott ever could have. And though it took me a decade to get it through my thick skull, I was finally the person I was meant to be, with someone who loved me for who I was, not who I was supposed to be.

It was surprisingly nice.

By the time I managed to make it downstairs it was well after sunrise. I found Scott sitting on the sofa drinking a cup of coffee with a newspaper in his hand.

"Morning Jean," he said in a nonchalant tone.

"Good morning Scott," I replied cautiously. I paused, considering whether or not to say it, and then I went ahead and did anyway. Hell, we were all living together; sooner or later the awkwardness about this situation was going to have to dissipate. Wasn't it?

"Have you heard anything from Logan?" I asked innocently.

"Oh yeah, now that you mention it I have," Scott said casually, then took a sip from his coffee mug. "It slipped my mind, I meant to tell you yesterday. Logan…he kind of…well…got blown up on the way home. He'll be back in another day or two, however long he takes to knit himself back together."

"Excuse me, he got WHAT?" I said, my voice and eyebrows rising at the same time. "He got…what? Blown UP?" I gasped, turning pale. I couldn't read the expression behind Scott's visor but even if I wasn't a telepath I'd swear it was smug. "Is he all right?" I asked with concern.

"Yeah…yeah. They bombed him from the air. But don't get overzealous about this Jean, you know Logan. He's a tough little guy. Hardier than a cockroach, I'm sure he'll be fine just like always."

I shot Scott a glare. "And you just conveniently FORGOT to mention this to me?" I challenged.

"Yeah, guess so," he said without pause, turning the paper to the sports page. "Oh, and X-Force is going to be here in about five minutes. Logan invited them over for the wedding, they'll be staying a week. I may have forgotten to mention that too."

X-Force was…what? Going to be HERE? In five minutes? I was still in Logan's boxers and a tank top, how was I supposed to make a good hostess in five minutes?

"You really are an asshole Scott!" I seethed, completely taken aback at this obvious attack.

Scott adjusted the paper so that he could peer over the top at me pointedly, his visor glowing an unearthly red.

"$7,500 Jean. Seventy-five-hundred dollars. Do you know how many public appearances and endorsements I'm going to have to do to cover that?"

"Oh, you think I care Scott?" I retorted. "Boo hoo, you have to sell some photos of Emma whoring it up in diamond form to People magazine to repay that stupid dress. Cry me a fucking river Scott Summers!"

"Well, you know, if I was Wolverine I could just go out and do some contract kills for cash. Some assassinations. He's does that kind of thing, doesn't he?" Scott said sharply, keeping his features completely neutral.

"Logan's a good man!" I yelled at Scott in consternation. I could hardly believe this was someone I'd been married to for ten years. How did I stand it? How had a divorce taken this long, anyway?

"Jean, please, keep your voice down before you embarrass us both. I don't really want to deal with any more of these little stunts you've been pulling lately," Scott said in an infuriatingly bland manner.

"Little 'stunts?' Oh, you mean like this one?" I asked.

With a twitch of my mind I took Scott's cup of hot coffee and poured it all over his lap. He jumped up from the sofa and yelled.

"Well, those sweatpants only cost you, how much $15? Don't complain I'll pay you back," I threw at him. "Or just put Emma out on the corner for ten minutes and she'll earn it back, I promise."

"What in the hell is wrong with you Jean!" Scott sputtered in an annoyed voice. "Jesus Christ! Ever since you started your little torrid love affair with the team berserker you've been acting like a…like a crazy bitch!"

"You better watch your mouth Scott," I warned him. "And I mean it. I MEAN it! I'm sick of you insulting me and I don't want to hear another word against Logan out of you!"

"What do you see in that midget anyway?" Scott asked, ignoring my warning and looking down in anger at his coffee-stained sweatpants, which were now dripping amber liquid onto the upholstery.

"He may be shorter than you but he's got about two inches on you where it counts!" I spat at Scott.

I heard the sound of someone choking and turned around to see Kitty watching us and trying to hold back her laughter.

"This is none of your concern Shadowcat!" Scott said in a harsh tone. "This is a private matter, Kitty, if you'd excuse us!"

"Oh, it does sound like a private matter indeed," Kitty said, biting her lip to keep from smiling and backed slowly out of the living room.

Then the doorbell rang.

"Shit! That's them. Is that them, Scott?"

"How the hell would I know? You're the telepath," Scott replied sulkily to me, brows drawn down in anger over ruby lenses. He did look awfully stupid with a giant brown stain on his crotch and at least I got some small satisfaction from that.

Great. Company calling; just what I needed. Here I was, dressed like I was going to one of Jubilee's famed "White Trash" parties, and there was no time to do anything about it. I suppose I'd just go with Logan's school of thought on the matter, bite the bullet, and just answer the door with all the cheer I could muster.

Five years ago, this would've been unheard of for me. My public presentation was everything, and I wouldn't have been caught dead with a hair out of place.

"Live and learn," I murmured to myself as I opened the door.

There before holding various suitcases and duffel bags stood X-23, Warpath, Rahne, Angel, and …Domino?

Oh great. Now it's a party, I thought. Domino showing up was really the cherry on top of an increasingly awful morning.

"Hello Jean. Congratulations on your offspring," Laura said to me, staring down at my stomach, expression stoic.

"Oh…thanks," I said awkwardly, putting my hand over my belly.

"Logan told me to say that," Laura continued "But he told me not to use 'offspring' because it was too formal. However, it is technically correct," Laura pointed out to me, her cool green eyes locking on my face.

Everyone was standing around on the doorstep looking uncomfortable and I could hear Domino begin to laugh and then disguise it with a cough into her hand.

"That's...nice?" I said to Laura, unsure of what else to really say.

An awkward silence followed.

"So… would you like to come in?" I finally asked the small crowd.

"Yes," Laura replied, and walked past me into the living room.

Warpath said hello and Warren greeted me with a kiss on the cheek that made me blush a little. Domino was the last one in and she greeted me with one hand up and a wide smile.

"Hiya Jean!" she said. "I um… I heard I'm kinda of in trouble with you, huh?"

I blushed a deep crimson. For a man of few words, Logan sure managed to share plenty of my worst moments.

"No…no, it's not like that Bea," I said quickly, even though of course it was. "That was just one stupid fight we had…"

We were standing in the doorway facing each other. Domino's eyes were twinkling, but not really in a malicious way, more in a jovial manner.

"Oh yeah, the big fight…" Domino mused, cheeky grin still on her face. "Is that the one where he called me drunk and crying saying you'd kicked him out and his life was over?" she asked.

"Oh, um," I said, my deep embarrassment taking on a tinge of remorse and shame, "Yes, probably. That was probably the time. I mean—I'm making it sound like there were lots of times—"

"…times when he called me all drunk and upset about you? Yeah, actually, that's been quite a few times. Or pretty much every time he gets really drunk."

"Really?" I asked curiously, staring at Domino's black spot so I wouldn't have to look her directly in the eye. Logan had cried to her about us? That was news to me.

"Yep, I seem to be the go-to girl," Domino said. "And I've been on the end of more conversations that started with 'Jeannie' than anyone else on the planet."

"I had no idea…" I replied, unsure whether to be worried, jealous, flattered, or some combination of all three. Domino stared at me with a feisty look and her hands on her hips.

"Well, look…can I take you out to lunch? Just as a no-hard feelings thing? Just say yes. Logan and I have been tight, we've got a past, and of course you and I know each other but I feel like I we don't really KNOW each other. Know what I mean?"

I said nothing. What was the right answer to that? Yes? No?

"Plus, that creepy little girl is starting to get on my nerves."

"Laura?" I asked with a half smile.

"Yeah. Every time I look over at her she's starin' at me like she's figuring out the 10 best ways to kill me."

"Well," I said, looking down at myself and my decidedly dressed-down ensemble. "Sure. It'll be nice to go out—I've been voted officially too pregnant to go on missions at this point, and hanging around the house is truthfully as boring as hell…"

"…Well thereya go!" Domino said, throwing her hands up. "Let's go out! Girls night! Okay, nothing wild, but we can at least get some pickles and ice cream or something for you, right?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Sure," I said, giving her a small smile. "Let me just go upstairs and change.

Laura walked past us.

"Fifty-seven ways," she said in a neutral tone of voice.

Domino quirked her eyebrow and the corners of her mouth turned down.

"Uh, Jean, can you hurry?"

* * *

We ended up going to an Italian place called Paisano's.

I ordered a giant plate of fettuccine alfredo, while Domino ordered an appetizer and enough mixed drinks to make Professor Xavier dance around and sing Karaoke. I tried not to look at her in alarm as she tossed back a Hurricane and flagged down the waitress for a Long Island Ice Tea.

"So, you an' Logan, huh? Jesus, he must be the happiest man in the world," Domino said, grinning at me as she sipped her bright red drink out of the glass.

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty happy too," I said, smiling down at my pasta.

"He always wanted kids. Although I heard this was, uh…."

"An accident?" I said, smiling wryly. It was no longer exactly secretive news.

"Yeah, better you say that instead a' me!" Domino said with a laugh, swirling the ice in her drink and squeezing out the lemon.

"With Logan, man… you've gotta use condoms. Always. That's what we did, I didn't wanna take any chances on having cubs or anything."

"Oh," I said, blushing a little, not sure I was liking where this conversation was going. Domino wasn't slowing down though; I had the feeling she was just getting started.

"All that stuff I said about him being hung up on you Jean, that's true. I mean, Logan gets a lot of pussy. It's not just the superhero thing, it's his attitude. And his muscles. And claws. And the healing factor! I – oh, uh, I'm making this worse not better, huh?" Domino asked me with a slightly drunken smile, noticing my embarrassment.

"Yeah," I admitted, slurping up a fettuccine noodle, still unable to look her in the eye.

"Sorry. Sorry. I'll try to keep this PG-13. Anyways, Jean, the point I was making was, after we'd fuck Logan would always pour me a drink—whatever we had handy—usually brandy or Jim Beam—and we'd do a shot. And I'd say, 'to Cable,' and he'd say, 'to Jeannie.'"

My eyes widened.

"Oh," I said.

"Yeah. He's nuts for you. I mean, sure what we had together was hot, but if you'd called on the phone he would've been running outta there with his pants around his ankles calling 'Jeaaanniie' at the top of his lungs. You've got that man on a leash girl. I don't know how, but you did it."

Domino knocked back the last of her drink and slammed it down on the table, giving a slightly fearsome grin.

I honestly didn't know what to think. What Domino was saying was definitely too much information, crossing private boundaries, but at the same time I could tell she was trying in her own way to make me feel more at home with the situation and despite my being uncomfortable with the subject matter, despite the utter awkwardness of talking about having sex with my fiancé at an Italian diner… well… I was starting to like her.

"I haveta say Jean," Domino said, and she was slurring, "When I heard what had happened…I mean, there were rumors before it happened…that you guys were having sex in the woods. In the woods? Really in the woods?"

I couldn't help it.

I started laughing.

"Yep, in the woods." I said, shaking my head. "We were having sex on the ground in the woods. Practically every night for a month."

I started laughing again, and then Domino started laughing, and then we were both laughing together at the whole crazy thing, laughing so hard we were both crying.

I guess the ice had officially been broken.

"So I'm curious," Domino said, putting down her now empty glass. "I wanna hear everything. The whole situation—Jean—I want you to be like a sister to me. Anyone who's good with Logan is good with me and I know he's sticking with you life and death, so…fill me in."

"Okay Dom," I said, wiping the corners of my eyes. "But slow down on the mixed drinks okay? Unlike me, you don't have an excuse for puking right now."

"All right. I'll knock off the rampant alcoholism as long as you promise to tell me exactly what's been going on between you two lovebirds."

"Deal," I said.

I told Domino the entire ordeal in greater detail than I probably would've or should've told anyone. I told her about all the sex, about finding out I was pregnant, about telling Scott, and the impending divorce. Then I told her about Emma.

As soon as I mentioned Emma's name, Domino brought one fist down hard on the table. The plates and glasses jumped up and settled, but nothing actually tipped over. Lucky, that.

"Emma? Emma Frost? Oh, THAT BITCH!" Domino said, loud enough that the eyes of neighboring offended restaurant guests settled on our table.

"Isn't she though?" I said. "That woman's been after me since day one! And she's the one who stole my husband in the first place! You think she'd just leave well enough alone!"

"Ugh, I would love to teach that Ice Queen a lesson she'd never forget," Domino said ominously, eyes narrowing behind her black spot.

"Tell me about it," I said, staring down at my empty plate. "But I mean, besides spilling some wine on her…well, I just wanted to teach her a lesson. Bring her down a peg."

Suddenly Domino sat up very straight.

"So let's do it," she said, tossing her short black hair back.

"Do what?" I asked, confused.

"You want revenge on Emma? I have the perfect thing in mind. Perfect. She's never gonna live it down. You wanna hear about it?"

I have to admit there was a split-second of hesitation. Some mature part of me warned me that if I didn't have anything nice to say I shouldn't say anything at all. That revenge is a dish best served cold. That I should take the high road and be the adult in this situation.

Of course, that was only for a few seconds. Then I came to my senses.

"I'm listening," I told her.


	18. Pop Culture Crash

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry it took so long guys, but I promise you, it's well worth the wait! Your review keep the blood pumping the veins of my story, thanks for so much appreciation! I do this for you fangirls and fanboys. More capitol-D drama coming up, Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 18: Pop Culture Crash

* * *

"Lookeee here," Domino said, wiggling around in her leather cat suit, a dangerous twinkle in her eye. She was holding a smooth, black, wire bound book between two fingers.

"What… is that?" I questioned.

We were back in the mansion, huddled together in Logan's room, plotting against our common enemy Emma Frost. Though I'd assumed Domino would be too drunk to stand by now, let alone plot against our shared foe, she seemed surprisingly vigorous. Her alcohol tolerance probably rivaled Logan's, and that was saying something.

The girl could hold her liquor.

"This little old thing?" Domino said with aplomb, playing out the act for all it was worth. "Little black book? Dates, appointments, and addresses," she said, her smile widening.

"And guess who it belongs to? You get three guesses."

She tossed the book up in the air and caught it in the other hand like she was performing for a one-person audience. I stared at her blankly and held my mug of tea against my stomach. What had I gotten myself into?

"Okay, hell Jean, I'll give you a hint. It belongs to someone whose cunt doubles as a refrigeration unit."

I choked and spit out the mouthful of tea I'd just sipped, and Domino started laughing at me.

"You have Emma's address book?" I asked incredulously. "How'd you find that?"

"Luck!" Domino said triumphantly.

"Well okay…" I said. I could give her that. "But what are you planning to do with it? Prank call somebody?" I asked. Even that was a little juvenile for me. Of course, if Domino wanted to do it I wasn't going to STOP her, per say. Maybe protest a little.

Maybe not.

"Oh no. No no Jean," Domino protested, shaking her head violently side to side. "Come on. You're thinkin' small time crooks Jean. You've gotta think bigger than that. Think Ocean's 11."

I stared at her wide-eyed and shrugged my shoulders.

"Dom, I don't know how often you're going to have a telepath tell you this, but you have me stumped. Please, elaborate."

"Well all RIGHT!" Domino laughed, slapping her knee as if she'd been expecting this all along.

"So, I just found this by accident. Innocent, right?" She asked me. I nodded, though presuming Domino truly innocent was a little doubtful by this point.

"I was flipping through, you know, just perusing, just like any person might do, and look what I found. Look! What! I! Found!"

Domino licked a finger and flipped through the pages of the address book, finally settling on a page and tapping it with her finger.

"Right here."

I peered closely at the book. There, written in purple ink, was "MTV Cribs, 5pm," and a phone number.

"What?" I said out loud. "Why would Emma have something like that in there? MTV Cribs? Isn't that some kind of show Bobby watches?"

"That's the first thing I thought too—what does it mean? Why?" Domino said. "So I called the number listed. I got ahold of some VJ kid from MTV, and guess what they told me? Emma had set up this whole tour of the mansion—made a deal with them, said it was for publicity."

"That's crazy!" I said, slightly outraged. "That kind of rampant pop-culture invasion of our home? Xavier would never agree to that! Scott wouldn't even agree to that!"

"Yeah, that's why she was keeping it so private, I bet," Domino said. "Isn't that just like Frosty? Make some big publicity stunt to raise her profile, but keep it under wraps until the last minute so that when the crew shows up it's oops, put on a happy face, cameras are rolling!"

"She's such an evil bitch!" I seethed, blowing air through my teeth. "So what'd you do Domino. Call and cancel?"

Domino threw back her head and laughed. The scary laugh. The one that made my heart beat a little faster and give silent thanks that Domino had no grudge against me.

"Oh no. Why would I do that and spoil all the fun? I called them and told them to come TODAY."

"WHAT?" I said so loudly that I instantly covered my mouth afterwards. We'd shut the door but I really didn't need someone coming to investigate right now.

"You ready for the best part Jean? Yeah, you ready? We're going to break into Scott and Emma's room! Set 'em up lie bowling pins then knock 'em down!"

"Wait, WHAT? Domino…Domino, what? Stop, this is bordering on madness. I mean, if we got caught--"

"Got CAUGHT?" Domino scoffed. "Please. Between an omega level psy talent and a mutant whose power is luck? Getting caught is not in the cards."

"But this…this is wrong," I protested weakly, gripping my tea mug until my fingers turned white.

"Look Jean," Domino said, looking naughtily up at me through her dark bangs, the deep purple patch on her face seeming to flush. "You already got your feet wet. Time to jump in the pool. Do you trust me, or not?"

"Well—I—I---" I stuttered, unsure of what to do or say.

It was wrong. This whole thing was very wrong, but at the same time… it was exciting. And getting revenge on the woman who had caused me so much pain and misery…well, it was just hard to say no to an opportunity like that.

"Trust me. Jean?" Domino said, sticking out a pale hand.

I looked up and down at her. And in my head, I thought, oh shit. It was too late now.

Jump, headfirst.

"Yes, I trust you," I said, and my hand met hers.

* * *

"You're sure no one's coming?" Domino whispered, working the wire into the lock on Scott and Emma's door.

"Yes, I'm sure!" I said, mildly insulted. "I have been doing this whole mind reading thing for a while you know. I'm not a novice."

I saw Domino grimace and then smile as there was small clicking and scratching sound and the door swung open with ease.

"Ahaaa yeah…that's it baby! I'm in! Let's go!"

We slipped quickly in and Domino shut the door behind us.

It took me aback for a moment, being in this room again. Scott's room. My room. The sight, the smells, came rushing back to me.

It was a room we had shared together for years. It was so familiar to me, and now, so strange. I'd laughed in this room, cried in this room. I'd lost my virginity to Scott in this room, actually, as distant as it seemed now.

We'd fought in this room. That very bed had served as a platform for a years-long cold war between us.

After visiting Logan in the woods, I'd slipped back into this room and fell asleep, tears still drying on my face. All in this room.

He'd changed it since then. The curtains were different, the furniture, rearranged. There was a new vanity, Emma's no doubt, and its surface was littered with baubles of all kinds, and a gem-encrusted jewelry box, an ivory comb and various implements of mirrors and lighting.

"Vain, much?" Domino snorted, and headed straight into the bathroom. I heard a click as she opened the medical cabinet.

"Jackpot!" she cried.

"What is it?" I asked, still posted by the door. There was no one nearby—my senses were all on high and the closest brainwaves were coming from one of the younger students making a sandwich down in the kitchen, but I was still scared stiff.

"It's like a pharmacy in here. Jesus! You know how much of a street price you could get for this?"

"No really," I called back. "Adulterer may be on my resume now, but drug dealing still isn't."

"Shame," Domino said, emerging from the bathroom with an armful of pills. "This is going to be so perfect."

* * *

The camera crew arrived an hour later.

Domino threw open the doors like they were the gates of hell themselves and said, "Helllooooo world! It's me, your very favorite mutant, Domino."

"Who are you?" One of the camera crew asked.

"Where's Wolverine?" Someone else asked.

Domino scowled.

"Don't make me use my mutant powers on you," she said darkly.

The whole crew paled.

Domino's face instantly lit up again.

"So, let me take you on a little tour! Come on in! Follow me!"

The crew doggedly obeyed and followed Domino until she reached the staircase.

"Hey, wait," one of them called. "Um, don't you want to show us the living room? The game room? I heard there's a sick basement with jets in it, right?"

"Sure, sure," Domino said, waving a hand in front of her face in a dismissive gesture. "But the real prize…the real good stuff…that's all upstairs. We can do that boring shit later. Oops, can I say shit on TV? Hm, I guess I just did."

Domino whipped her head around and ran lithely up the steps, the camera crew huffing and panting after her.

I followed behind all of them silently, a mix of exhilaration and pure dread in my stomach. I had the feeling that this was not going to end well, but I couldn't stop it now! And honestly, even if I could I don't know how hard I would've tried.

We all came upstairs and down the hall.

Domino stuck her face right in front of the camera.

"You guys all know Cyclops, right? Big boy scout team leader guy?"

"He's got the laser eyes, right?" The boom mike operator asked.

"Bingo!" Domino grinned.

"Hey and he's dating that hot diamond chick right? With the sweet fake tits? I can't remember her name. Eddy dude, you remember?

"Uh yeah. Maybe. Esma or Emily or something?" Another guy responded.

"Well, close enough. Double bingo!" Domino said. "So! I'd like to introduce you to Cyclops and Emma's room."

She threw the door open and flipped on the lights.

"Please, please, come inside," Domino said, skipping into the room and then gesturing widely around.

"Let me show you some of the highlights of the room," Domino demurred, strolling over to the entertainment center with the flat screen TV and sliding open a drawer.

"Oh, look at this. Adult movies! Oh my, how very naughty," Domino said, holding up several DVDs. "Hmm…seems to be a theme here…seems to be…redheads," she said, tossing the porn in the air and letting it land on the floor at her feet as the cameramen crowded around and zoomed in.

I turned bright red and buried my head in my hands. Luckily, no one had really taken notice of me. But seriously? Was that a plant, or real? If it was real, Scott had way more issues than even I could imagine.

"Moving on to Exhibit B," Domino said, yanking open a drawer. She pulled out a few scandalous undergarments and dangled them in front of the camera.

"Crotchless panties, wow, guess this is where the party's at," Domino said.

The MTV crew was loving it. They were eating it up with a spoon. And why not? This was certainly going to make some Nielson ratings.

"Those belong to the diamond chick?" One of the camera guys asked, laughing and wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh no!" Domino said. "Hers it much more provocative. This is Scott's drawer."

My face was still pressed firmly into my hands with my eyes squeezed shut, but I started laughing in spite of myself.

"And here, what do we have here," I heard Domino's cheerful voice ask.

"Woah, that's a lot a pills," one of the guys said with a low whistle.

"Well! The life of a superhero isn't easy," Domino said. "Don't worry. I'm sure they're all valid and reasonable prescriptions. Like, oh, say, the Xanax," she said, and I heard the rattling of pills in a bottle as she shook it.

"Or…let's see…Clonipin. Okay. Vicodin. Yeah, you get injuries on the job, you know! And… oh my, what's this. Valtrex? Ouch!" Domino said.

"Well, I guess diamond form doesn't make you immune to everything after all."

I seriously thought I was going to die at this point. From joy, shame, fear, or excitement I couldn't even tell anymore. I'd never done anything this bad in my life, yet on some strange level it was giving me a base satisfaction I didn't even believe possible.

But Emma? Exposed for herpes, in front of the entire USA? I actually felt sorry for her. I mean, who could deserve that? It was without a doubt the ultimate shaming.

I was so wrapped up in it, so dizzied by Domino's award-winning performance, I missed the tickle in the back of my brain.

The one that told me Emma and Scott had come home.

"What is this VAN doing here?" I heard Scott's voice from downstairs.

My blood ran cold. Domino went on blithely chatting away, still unaware of their presence.

"Hold on dear, I'll tell you in a moment," Emma said irritably.

I felt her reach out. I felt her mind touch my mind.

My eyes flew open.

I saw Domino freeze in her tracks.

There was a split second delay.

"JEAAANNNN!"

The voice was Emma's, yet it was like nothing I'd ever heard. It was a terrifying screech that echoed throughout the mansion and made the entire camera crew jump.

I felt her grasp my mind, stare at it, it was too fast and too desperate for me to throw up my usual defenses.

And just like that, she'd seen everything I'd seen.

She knew everything I knew.

She came charging up the stairs, her face a portrait of vicious rage.

Scott, still obviously and almost comically confused, was standing at the bottom of the staircase, looking up.

"Emma?" He said in a confused tone. "Honey? Jean? What's happening?"

As Emma charged towards me, I threw up my hands in self-defense, but she didn't stop when she reached me. She flew past me and knocked aside the MTV camera crew, who by this time were as confused as Cyclops were and were standing slack-jawed watching the events unfold.

"YOU BITCH! DOMINO YOU BITCH!" Emma screamed in the crazed voice of a harpy.

She lunged at Domino but in her rage she tripped over the edge of the vanity, and as she fell, one of the mirrors fell off the wooden surface and broke at her feet.

Even Domino looked slightly alarmed.

I heard one of the camera guys whisper with eyes wide, "Keep rolling!"

Emma crawled to her hands and knees, and now I saw that glass had embedded itself in her hands and she was bleeding.

She looked up at Emma with an expression of hate and rage so fierce I couldn't pull my eyes away from it.

Then she started sobbing.

It was terrible crying. It was more like a child crying than an adult, she wailed, and by that time Scott was pushing through.

It was indeed a pitiful sight to behold, Emma crawling around on the floor bawling, blood staining the carpet around her hands.

I recoiled in disgust.

Oh god, what had I done.

I quickly turned and ran for the stairs.

I looked down to the landing and saw…

…Logan?

There he stood, cleaned up and freshly shaven with a duffel bag over his shoulder.

"Jeannie? What n' the bloody hell's goin' on here?" He asked with real concern in his voice.

"You all right darlin'? I just got back two minutes ago an' all I saw was Frosty screamin' an chargin' up the stairs like the hounds a hell were on her heels."

"Oh God Logan," I said, and then I burst into tears. "Oh no."

He took the steps two at a time to reach me, right as Cyclops shoved the camera crew out of the hallway yelling, "Get out of here you vultures! You heard me! We will sue you for this, make no mistake! Make no mistake mister, you destroy that film right now! What have you done to her?"

Logan joined me at the top of the stairs, and after a quick once over he realized I wasn't the one in trouble and he ran to the doorway of Emma and Scott's room.

We looked inside together.

There was Emma, sobbing on the floor. Little bits of glass were everywhere. Domino stood, head hanging down, looking for all the world guilty and ashamed.

"I—I'm sorry Logan," she said, looking up, eyes frightened behind her dark patch. "We were just pulling a prank and… it went too far, ya know? How these things go?" she finished weakly.

"They destroyed me!" Emma sobbed, turning her face up to Logan, mascara running down her cheeks and dripping off her chin in black rivulets. "They took my whole life and they destroyed me!" She swung her arm and knocked all the pharmaceuticals off the shelf. They crashed to the floor as blue, yellow, white pills scattered all over, some landing at my feet.

Logan looked confused. He stared at me, an odd mix of surprise and wariness on his face.

"You're some part a' this Jeannie?" He asked me.

I nodded, and covered my face.

"Get out of my way Logan!" Scott yelled roughly as he barreled past him and fell on his knees next to Emma.

"Oh God baby, your hands!" Scott said to Emma, eyebrows knitted in concern. "Will you people stop standing around staring and do something useful!" He yelled. "Somebody get Hank!"

"I—I already psychically contacted him Scott," I said in a quiet, quavering voice. "He's on his way up."

Domino stepped forward. "Logan. I'm sorry, this is my fault…we…no, I, called in this MTV crew, and they were taping Emma's room, and it was all in fun, just wanted to embarrass her a little.."

"All in FUN?" Logan yelled, and Domino cowered a little. "You think this looks like fuckin' fun? She's cryin' and bleedin' on the floor and you think…"

He suddenly turned away as his expression fell into darkness and his fists clenched.

"Domino you're a fuck up sometimes, I get it. I fuckin' get it. You're a loose cannon, and ya probably had at least four or five a' whatever liquor they had handy before ya pulled this one. Am I right? I'm right?" Logan whipped around and challenged her, facing her eye to eye.

Domino held up her chin in defiance to him, but I could see the deep hurt in her eyes.

"Shit Dom, I don't control you. You knew our deal. But Jean. Jeannie. Jeannie."

He turned to me and I felt like I was a wax candle melting under the hot sun. I withered inside. How could I face this? How could I even have DONE this? What was wrong with me, had I been out of my mind?

"You didn't darlin'," he said to me, and what hurt the worst was that I could tell he wanted the words to be true.

I shook my head. "I did Logan," I confessed.

"How could ya darlin'?" He asked me, his expression pained.

His voice wasn't even angry. It was pleading. It was soft, as if somehow I'd have some reason that would explain this away. Exonerate me. Shed all guilt from me.

"I'm…I'm so sorry Logan," I said. I dropped my head.

The two of us stood there, Domino off to the side.

He said nothing.

I cried quietly.

"Jean, I don't know who ya even are anymore. Maybe I never did," he finally said, his voice cold, and he picked his duffel bag back up and headed down the stairs.

"Please don't go!" I cried, reaching out with one hand.

He turned around, but his face was stone.

"Ya wanna talk, we'll talk later. I'm going downstairs to fill Hank in and I'll be in the infirmary helpin' our teammates after that."

He turned and left.

And I stood there, alone.


	19. Mea Maxima Culpa

AUTHORS NOTE: All actions have consequences! Or haven't they learned by now… Okay, so as you probably know "the big day" is coming up. But what's coming first, the love, the marriage, or the baby carriage? Find out in the next installment.. ;)

* * *

Chapter 19: Mea Maxima Culpa

* * *

We stood in his room, the two of us, in a standoff.

Rather, Logan sat on the bed with his back to me and I stood, arms crossed over my expanding belly. I could feel one of the twins kicking.

"I ain't gonna talk to ya 'til you apologize to her, Jeannie," came his rough voice from across the room. Stubborn as ever.

My grip tightened on my own arms and I let out a sigh.

"Logan, I'm sorry—" I began, but he cut me off.

"I tolja Jean. I don't wanna hear it. I ain't the one you should be apologizin' to."

"Logan!" I said, starting to lose my temper. "You can't do this right now! It's two weeks until the wedding."

There was a silence.

"Maybe it ain't," he said.

"What?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"Maybe I don't wanna marry you, Jean."

The words hung in the air like boulders. I was too shocked to move, let alone speak.

"What are you talking about?" I said in a voice that sounded alien to me, in a voice that I hardly even recognized.

He turned halfway, so that I could see his silhouette in profile.

"I'll always love ya. You know that. And those are my kids in there, you're the mother to my children. I'll always love them too. But Jeannie, I don't have to marry ya. And now I don't know if I even want to."

I was still too shocked to speak. My hands dropped to my sides, numb. I couldn't believe the words I was hearing, and the world-weary tone with which Logan was saying them.

"You can't do this," I whispered. "You wouldn't."

Logan dropped his head. I could tell how hard this was for him, but it felt ten times worse to me.

"Look Jeannie. You got fire in ya, and I love ya for it. You're beautiful darlin', no man could deny it. You're smart, and you got powers that any other mutant's got a right to be jealous of. But I always loved ya 'cause I knew you had a good soul."

I stood there, utterly despondent as Logan continued.

"And this bullshit. This teenage bullshit Jeannie. That woman's saved your life, hell, my life, more times than I can count. Maybe ya don't like her too much, Lord knows I don't…but this? Public humiliation for yer own sense of satisfaction?"

He turned and looked at me with pained eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked me.

I looked at him and I couldn't bear it. I felt my chest tighten. I felt like the walls were slowly shrinking, closing me in. And worse, I had no answer.

I turned and ran out of the room.

I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, breathing fast.

Everything he had said was true. I knew I deserved it, every word of it. And I knew there was only one way to fix this. There was only one way to make this right.

I walked down the hallway towards Emma's door. It stood looming before me like a dark specter, and I found myself physically averse to moving any closer. The shame, the gravity of what I had done fell upon me as I took a deep breath and raised a heavy hand to knock.

_Leave me alone,_ came her voice in my head.

"Emma, please," I said in a low voice. "Please, just let me in for a second…Just let me…"

_Apologize?_ She said in an empty tone. _You can't apologize for what you've done._

"Please let me try!" I said, pressing my face against the door. "Emma, Emma, I'm begging you."

I was greeted with a silence. I pushed gently on the door.

The room was dark, but as my eyes adjusted I saw Emma lying regally across the silk covers of the bed. To my surprise, she didn't have a stitch of makeup on her face, making her appearance slightly gaunt and pale. She had bandages wrapped around both of her hands.

She didn't look at me as I approached.

I pulled up a chair and sat next to her bedside.

"Why did you do it?" she asked me in a clear voice, speaking for the first time, her tone emotionless.

I stared at her still, inert form on the bed.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully.

"Then answer me this," she said, still showing no signs of feeling. "Why do you hate me so much, Jean? What have I done to warrant this…this void of pure hatred inside you?"

I wanted to deny it, but then I hesitated. I knew Emma deserved the true answer to that question, but I wasn't sure even I knew it. Why DID I hate Emma so much? Yes she was condescending, arrogant, borderline abusive…but I knew other people like that, young and old, humans and mutants alike, and while they irritated me, I certainly wasn't bent on destroying the very fiber of their souls.

It was the two of us, she a husk, I filled with a shame like heavy sand. I needed to remedy it. I needed to confess.

It was then that I reached deep inside myself. Carefully, unwillingly, I closed my eyes and I concentrated. With great effort, I sat there in the dark and unlocked the secret chambers of hurt inside me, things I'd avoided, things I'd stowed away. I dug to find the answer, there at her bedside. And before I even knew what I was going to say, I opened my mouth and let it come.

"You took the man I loved. You stole my husband. You stole Scott," I said, my voice breaking a little.

Emma's eyes fluttered down, but still she made no move. Her voice was still a monotone.

"I thought you were happy with Logan," she said.

"I am," I said. "But Emma….God Emma, you don't understand. How can I make you understand?"

"You explain it," she replied flatly.

I took a deep breath.

"Scott was my first love," I said. "He meant everything to me, everything. I worked harder on that relationship than anything I'd ever worked on in my life. I lived and breathed for him."

I took another breath.

"I married him, and it was the happiest day of my life. He was my anchor, the reason I got up in the morning. It wasn't easy, it was a constant struggle. It took all my power, all my time to keep him with me. He's so passive aggressive. He's so unsure, caught up in himself. There's a brick wall inside him, a wall I spent years trying to climb. I made it my goal, my mission. I knew no failure before then. I thought it was just a matter of time…

"Emma, I scraped my hands and knees raw trying to get over that wall. Trying to make Scott love me. And I thought I'd done it. I thought I'd done it at last. And you come along, and you barely say one word, and he throws me away…he throws me away and he runs to you.

And the worst part, Emma, the worst part…"

I suddenly stopped and put my hands to my temples. My head throbbed. Tears quavered behind my eyes but didn't fall. My throat felt suddenly raw.

"The worst part is his unconditional love for you. I wasted ten good years of my life battling for it, and you won it in a day. It doesn't matter what diseases or imperfections you may have, it wouldn't matter if it were leprosy. He'd still kiss your feet. Your feet, not mine.

"For me…It was like walking on eggshells. Every plate I cleaned, every dress I wore, every kiss goodnight, I knew if I didn't do it just right I was losing his love. Inch by sorry inch. Ounce by ounce it evaporated. It was a terrible feeling, a desperate feeling, a slow sinking, slipping abyss.

"I still don't know. To this day I don't know Emma, why he couldn't love me…"

I stopped, my head pounding.

"But he loved you," I finished. "I loved him, and he loved you. And I hate you for it. For having something I could never have. For something…for something I should've earned. It's yours, for free."

"But you do have it, Jean," Emma said, her eyes closing briefly, then opening again.

I sat in silence, wondering if should tell her the truth.

"He doesn't want to marry me anymore," I whispered.

It was a confession I wouldn't even tell my best friend, and here I was telling Emma Frost because I owed her my misery.

She didn't reply.

"Emma, I wish I could make it right. I wish—"

I stopped mid sentence, suddenly realizing what it was I could do. I raced out of the room without saying another word, and down the stairs. If I could catch a Taxi in time I could pull this off.

* * *

I returned an hour later out of breath, with a large drapery bag.

I tiptoed up the stairs and knocked softly on the door. Scott opened it.

"She sleeping, Jean," he said in a tired voice. He didn't look angry at me, just worn out.

"Can you wake her?" I asked. When he looked at me skeptically, I urged, "It's really important Scott, please."

I approached Emma's bedside and she sat up, still without making eye contact.

Without speaking, I removed the drapery bag, and carefully placed the bejeweled wedding dress on her lap.

"Jean!" Scott said, taking a sharp breath. I looked quickly at him and spoke directly to Emma.

"It's the same one I saw you in. The one that made me…that made me so damn jealous. It looked stunning on you Emma, it's perfect. You'll be perfect. You'll be the perfect bride."

For the first time I saw a glimmer in Emma Frost's eyes. With her carefully bandaged hands, she smoothed down the material, carefully running the pads of her fingers over the glittering diamond bodice.

"How much did it cost you?" Scott asked me quietly.

I looked up at the ceiling.

"Most of my budget," I said as evenly as I could. "Um… the catering, the photographer…the flowers."

Scott looked away, not sure what to say.

I was glad he didn't say anything, I wasn't sure what my reaction would've been.

Emma held the dress up to the light. Then, for the first time, she looked at me. We made eye contact. Her hollow blue eyes didn't hold warmth, but they didn't hold hatred either. She simply looked me in the eye and told me, "Thank you."

It was enough.

* * *

I knocked on Logan's door instead of simply going in like I usually did.

When he answered, he instantly saw the expression on my face and let me in.

I was biting my lips, staring hard at him.

"You did a good thing today darlin'—" he started, and I slapped him as hard as I could across the face.

Logan looked shocked from the stinging blow and put a hand up to his face, but he didn't react in anger.

"You can't leave me! You can't do that again!" I yelled at him, the anger making me shake. My hands were trembling, my face was burning hot.

"Jeannie," he said, moving in close to me and pushing me down onto the bed. "I'd never leave you."

I let myself fall against the bed, felt him follow me down.

"You said you'd leave me! You said…you said you'd call our wedding off," I whispered.

"Never Jeannie baby, never darlin'," he replied. I let him kiss my neck, suck it, felt arousal sweep through me as I felt the rumble of his voice against my skin. "I'm always yours darlin'."

"You can't scare me like that again Logan!" I said in a desperate voice as he pushed my hands to the side and carefully laid open my shirt and unclasped my bra.

"You can't leave me Logan, you can't, I don't know how to survive without you anymore," I choked out the confession, feeling his hands roam across my skin.

"I'm yours Jeannie, I'm yours," he murmured, lips moving down my chest, hands over my exposed breasts. He leaned down and ran his tongue over the peak of a nipple and I shuddered in response.

I loved him so much, and God I hated him so much.

I ran my hands down his back and then suddenly dug my nails in, dragging them up his shoulders. Logan stiffened and growled from the pain, and in an instant of anger I grabbed his hair by the fistful and pulled him up to face me.

When his eyes looked into mine, it was one of the most strangely animalistic looks I've ever seen. His clear blue eyes, completely focused and intense, looked beseechingly into mine. It was like he was giving himself up to me, begging for the punishment, asking for atonement.

"You're mine, say it again" I commanded, tears finally falling out of my eyes, and I bit his lip softly. He groaned against my mouth and moved my panties aside with two fingers.

"Jeannie baby. Whatever you want from me, I swear. Anything, I'd do anything for you darlin'. I'm yours. I'm yours."

With a sharp and almost violent motion, he pushed himself inside me and I gasped, arching my head back and banging it against the headboard with a dull thump.

"Yours."

He moved and I moved back against him, then I pressed my face into his shoulder, my teeth against his skin.

"Yours."

He had a hand on my breast, another on my stomach. He stroked it softly, and he looked at me, still inside me, tilting his head slightly, kissing me on the lips.

"Yours, Jean. I'm yours."

Afterwards, we lay together quietly. I stroked his hair. Logan had his head against my belly, close to the twins, listening. He'd told me before with his enhanced senses he could hear both their heartbeats at once.

"You were bluffing," I finally said to him.

He looked up at me, and a spark of playfulness danced in those blue eyes. Just for a second, then it was gone.

"Dunno what you mean Jeannie," he murmured, kissing my stomach.

I ran a finger along his sideburns, lifted his chin up and kissed his face.

"You would've married me. You just wanted to get me to do the right thing and fix things over with Emma. You played me, didn't you Logan."

"Hmph. That what ya really think, darlin'?" he asked, his silky black hair brushing against the side of my breast. I tangled my hand in it, combed through it with my fingertips.

"I know so," I said. "You were meant for me. You're in love with me in a way I can't even understand. And Logan, I…I am never going to love another man the way I love you. Never."

He looked up at me, and it was the rare glimpse of the vulnerable.

Then he pressed his forehead next to the twins and closed his eyes.

"Keep doin' that hair strokin' thing with my hair Jeannie. It puts me to sleep."

I smiled, because it put me to sleep, too.

And falling asleep together, I let the hatred slip away. I had nothing to be jealous of. What I'd spent all those fruitless years on, what I'd been searching for…I had. I had here with me. I knew love.


	20. A White Wedding

* * *

Chapter 20: A White Wedding

* * *

"Wooolllvviiiieee!"

The voice burst through my eardrums like an air raid siren as I stood in the foyer and a short, petite Asian girl with jangling hoop earrings bounced onto the doormat.

"Hiya Jean! Wow you're super preggo now huh! That's crazy. You're huge! I mean not like fat huge, like pregnant huge. Hey, where's Wolvie?"

"Great question," I replied. "Logan! Logan! Jubilee's here Logan!" I called wearily as she leapt through the door, yellow coat flapping behind her, cracking her gum and leaving behind the pungent scent of Britney Spears 'Curious' and Bazooka Joe. I wrinkled my nose.

"When you find him Jubes, you bring him back here! Immediately!" I called, but she was already gone. I had developed a sneaking suspicion that Logan had sequestered himself away in an isolated room with a beer, leaving me to deal with the madness.

Wasn't that just like Logan? He'd face a room full of the Brood but he couldn't stand around for an hour and greet friends who'd flown hours to see us. Men.

I'd been standing by the door for what seemed like days as guests continued to stream in—sometimes in groups, sometimes one by one. Bruce Banner, Nick Fury, Tony Stark, Betsy Braddock, Elektra and Matt Murdock. The Fantastic Four had all arrived together (and brought a giant and unnecessary fruit basket), and former and current members of X-Teams—many people who had been under the tutelage of Xavier at some point, which was apparently a small continent full, just kept coming.

It wouldn't have been so bad except for that my ankles had recently decided to swell and I felt like I was some kind of exotic Shamu from Sea World here to greet the guests. I'd graduated to full maternity clothes a month ago and I'd stopped looking in mirrors even before that. I thanked God I'd gotten my wedding dress two sizes too big.

Several severe-looking tattooed Japanese businessmen pulled up in a black Cadillac and walked stiffly up to the front porch. I was beginning to get annoyed by this point.

"Where is the wedding, gaijin?" One demanded.

"Excuse me?" I asked. "Who the hell are you anyway, The Hand? Yakuza? If you're planning on attacking instead of attending, try the back gate."

There was muttered Japanese exchanged between the two of them. The one in front spoke out again.

"We are here to honor Logan-san and his future wife!" He told me stiffly. The others were wearing black sunglasses, gazing stoically ahead.

"You mean ME?" I asked in an exasperated tone. "The future wife, meaning me, Jean Grey? Phoenix? Planet-eater? Yeah, ring any bells?"

There was a much more frantic exchange of Japanese between them this time.

"You are the legendary Jean Grey? Our deepest apologies! This terrible slight on your honor will not be tolerated. In penance I shall offer you my finger. Hakiro! The knife!"

"NO! Uh, no, no, it's okay!" I said quickly.

Hm, the Legendary Jean Gray, though, I could learn to live with that title.

Apparently placated by my protests against removing a limb in atonement for not recognizing the bride, they all nodded shortly and bowed to me, and then strolled briskly into the mansion.

A second later I heard a familiar voice and turned around.

"Hey Jeannie," came a reluctant growl.

"You'll never guess where I found him Jean! Oh my gosh you should though! Guess, I mean! Guess where he was?"

I turned around and smirked at an obviously annoyed Logan who had Jubilee practically surgically attached to his arm.

"Oh please, do tell," I said to Jubilee, giving Logan a small smile. "Where'd you find him Jubes?"

"He was on the X-Jet! He was hiding in the back! I totally wouldn't even have found him except that there was a beer can sitting by the landing pad and I went inside and was like, 'Wolvie hey Wolvie!' and he didn't make a sound…"

"That's enough kid," Wolverine growled, rolling his eyes. "And take a damn shower firecracker, that perfume's killin' me!"

Jubilee blithely ignored him and continued on.

"…Then I popped open that compartment thing in the back—like, you know where I mean? Where they used to hang up the extra uniforms and stuff?"

"You were hiding in a closet? In the X-Jet?!" I asked Logan incredulously.

He tilted his head down and rubbed his neck and looked annoyed.

"Logan!" I said, sticking a finger in his face. "You leave your pregnant soon-to-be wife here to manage all these guests while you go and HIDE? Seriously? Some Japanese guy just tried to chop off his finger and give it to me!"

"Ewwww!" Jubilee said, still clinging steadily to Logan's arm. "I hope the carpet's Scotch guarded."

"Yeah, well," Logan mumbled, defeated, "Ya got me now. What can I say."

I gave a big sigh.

"Look, seriously. All I want to do is sit down for five minutes before I collapse. I'm carrying around kind of a heavy load, and I think one of these twins is going to be the future Karate kid," I said, rubbing the spot that was being kicked internally as we spoke.

"Ya mean you wanna leave me here by myself?" Logan asked me, making no secret of the fact that this was a highly distasteful option to him.

"Oh no, you'll have Jubilee to help you out with greeting the guests!" I said with a smile before strolling away and collapsing into a lounge chair as I heard Jubilee's voice faintly call, "Oh my gosh is that your skin or a costume?"

* * *

The dinner was at six o'clock, and it went rather peacefully. The ceremony was going to start at eight. I'd decided to have the dinner and the ceremony on the same day after Logan told me, in no uncertain terms, "Look Jeannie—this many crack-ups around? I promise ya I'll be civil for 24 hours, then all bets are off."

As much of a field day as the tabloids would've had over Wolverine going berserker at his own wedding, I was determined it was not going to happen. No, this was going to perfectly, without a hitch. It was outside, candlelit, and all the guest seating and tents had already been set up.

I was sitting in a room by myself with my bridesmaids, Kitty, Ororo, Rogue, Allison all crowded around me.

Emma was my maid of honor.

It was the crowning jewel of my apology and she and I had an intimate and surprisingly civil conversation in which we'd both apologized to each other and recognized at the same time that a lot of the wounds we'd both caused were still open and would still take time to heal.

I got the feeling that it was possibly the most mature, adult thing either of us had ever done. We were now in a sort of tentative friendship—a somewhat hesitant and distant one at times, but definitely on the best terms we'd ever been.

"I'm so nervous," I admitted, as Kitty and Allison sat by my side.

"It's okay," Kitty said quickly. "Just take some deep breaths. You look absolutely gorgeous, Jean, so don't worry. It's all going to go just fine. Just, you know, don't puke."

"Oh my gosh, did you see that video on YouTube?" Dazzler asked Kitty.

"Yeah!" She replied, "Way to ruin a wedding, huh?"

"Girls…you are not making Jean feel any better," Storm interrupted. She fretfully rearranged my hair and then knelt down next to me and smiled. "Jean, it is time."

"Oh god sugah it's gonna be just fine, okay?" Rogue said, taking my hand and helping me out of my chair.

I took a huge breath. My hands were trembling.

I'd asked Xavier to walk me down the aisle and give me away and he'd graciously accepted. He met me at the door as I swept out into the night warm breeze. The candles looked beautiful from here—a million dancing points of light, and it was wonderful night out, the stars clear, the moon above.

Xavier smiled warmly from his wheelchair and took my hand.

"You look lovely Jean, just lovely," he said.

"Thank you," I replied breathlessly.

"My sincere apologies for not being able to actually walk you down the isle," Charles said, a sly smile on his face.

"Think nothing of it," I laughed.

I looked ahead of me.

The audience was huge—it was almost like being in an arena—everyone had turned around in their chairs to stare at me, but their faces became a blur. All I could see was the white path in front of me, and at the end of it, Logan.

He was standing on a low platform, dressed in a well fitting dark suit. His hair was neatly combed back, his expression serious. He was gazing down the isle at me, and the look in his eyes told me everything I needed to know.

The music began to play, and I took the first step towards my destiny.

I walked, hand in hand with Xavier, till I'd gotten to the platform, and I took a step up.

Logan took my hand and his eyes wandered over my face, my dress.

"God darlin', you look beautiful tonight," he said in a hoarse voice.

I bit my lip. I'd had more tears these last six months than in the last six years of my life, and today was a joyous occasion—I'd promised myself I wouldn't cry.

We both looked out into the audience.

There were so many familiar faces, some less so. There was Hank in a suit and tie, and his date Abigail. Warren was beaming at me from the crowd, and Domino had a drink in her hand that she raised at my as my eyes passed her. I smirked.

Peter Parker was sitting on the groom's side with Mary Jane, the two of them grinning up at us like the America's sweethearts they were.

My eyes settled on Scott. Emma was with the bridesmaids, so he sat alone, suit and tie impeccable, expression impossible to read behind his visor.

This morning, before all the insanity of guests arriving had started, Scott had taken me aside and handed me several sheets of paper.

I'd looked up at him questioningly. "Is this…?"

"Your wedding present," he said with a somewhat sad smile. "It's our divorce papers, Jean, completed. I've signed them, had your lawyer look them over. Once you sign, it's official."

I looked at the pages in my hand, then back at Scott.

He put a steady hand on my shoulder and this time I didn't flinch or shy away.

"Jean, you meant so much to me…you still do," he said. "I'm sorry this went the way it did, but I guess—I guess we've both said enough 'sorries' by now to last us a lifetime."

"Yeah," I laughed, but inside I felt heavy and dull. Something once great and powerful had died. It was the feeling of the Phoenix, burning, turning into ash, only to rise again.

"What's that you used to say, Scott? Stuff your sorries in a sack, mister?"

Scott laughed, and I took his hand off my shoulder and held it in my own. It used to feel so natural and right, our two hands intertwined. Now it signified something else. A friendship.

"I'm glad—" Scott started, and then choked up and stopped. "I—I'm glad you're with Logan, Jean. He can give you what I never could. I think we both know that. He loves you. He… he needs you in a way I never did."

I dropped my head, then looked up into the familiar red light of his eyes.

"And I'm glad you're with Emma, Scott because—seeing you happy…Scott, that's all I ever wanted for you. That's what I tried for years to do, and I never could. Now, I see that smile of yours, and.."

"Jean," he said, and even behind the visor, I could see the deep sadness in his features. He leaned down and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek.

"We tried Scott, we really tried," I told him, squeezing his hand in mine. "But we know the deal, you and I. It could never work between us."

I let go of his hand, and I signed the papers. Within moments, the ink had dried. It was done.

From that moment on, I was a free woman.

* * *

"Jean, are you ready to begin ze ceremony?" A soft voice asked.

I started a little, back to reality. It was Kurt officiating our ceremony, and Logan and I turned to him at once. I smiled, excitement blossoming deep inside me.

"Yes! Yes, please!" I said, and Kurt smiled back, his tail switching.

"Very well then," he said, and turned to address the audience. A silence fell over them, and I could hear the crickets chirping around us, the sweet smell of candles filling the air.

"Dearly beloved," Kurt began, gazing out at the massive audience, "Ve are gathered together here in ze sign of God to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly."

I felt Logan shuffle around nervously and I smiled and took his hand. He glanced at me and raised one eyebrow. I laughed. I couldn't help it. This was going to be the happiest moment of my life, and I was sharing it with my best friend.

Kurt continued, his soft powerful voice cutting into the warm night.

"Into zis holy estate zese two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why zey may not be joined together – let zem speak now or forever hold their peace."

At those words, X-23 immediately leaped out of her chair.

"STOP!"

Her voice was commanding and clear.

There was a sudden gasping and murmuring of the audience. I had definitely not expected this. Scott maybe. Hell, even Warren maybe. But THIS? Logan's clone? Kurt halted, obviously confused, unsure of what to do. His glowing amber eyes darted back and forth between us.

"What the flamin' hell Laura?" Logan yelled with more than a touch of irritation in his voice.

"There are approximately fifty," she said holding up one hand to coldly halt Logan's speech. Her face was sharp and serious. "Class IV, late model. They will be here in approximately four seconds."

And then, at a wondering and stricken audience, she leaped out of her seat and ran towards the back row, towards the hill, which everyone now turned around to see...

..and in that moment I felt a rumbling. It was faint at first, like a tiny earthquake, and then quickly escalated to earth-shattering levels.

Shining, dark purple metallic forms appeared suddenly over the horizon and in the sky.

Sentinels.

There were fucking Sentinels here to crash my wedding.

No. Way.

I put my hands over my face and shook my head slowly back and forth.

"Jeannie!" Logan said with urgency, catching me by the arm. "Jeannie—I gotta--!"

"Go Logan," I said, and I heard a familiar SNIKT as he unsheathed his claws and leaped off the platform, going straight for the lead sentinel.

"Go ahead," I muttered to myself. "Go trash some Sentinels on our very special day Logan, it's fine."

"Jean!" Kurt said among the commotion. "Ve must get you to a safe place, yes? Ze babies, ve cannot risk it!"

"You're right Kurt," I said, suddenly coming to my senses as a battle began to rage around me.

Had it not been ruining my wedding, the view would've been fantastic. So many superheroes all at one time—Peter Parker swung by so close that Kurt ducked and I heard a faint "Sorrryy folks!" as he disappeared. Iron Man, fully suited, soared up and smashed into a Sentinel, sending sparks showering through the air.

"Let's get back to the mansion," I said quickly, then threw a telekinetic shield up as a giant arm came flying towards us. It bounced off and landed on the grass, knocking over several candles.

"I vould teleport, but…" Kurt motioned to my belly. "I think it is better ve take no chances," he warned.

"I agree," I said. "Let's go by foot. These damn tin cans have plenty to distract them! They sure as hell picked the wrong wedding to attack!"

I ambled my way off the platform, but Kurt stood up there staring down at me.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, fear dawning in my eyes at his shocked expression.

"Jean—I um…well..zere is…uh…," Kurt said, staring at the floor. I followed his gaze and realized what he was looking at. It was a huge wet spot. A huge wet spot where I had been standing.

Then I realized that something warm was running down the inside of my legs.

That's when the first contraction hit.

"Oh my god," I gasped. It literally knocked the breath out of me and I doubled over. It all came rushing to me at once, the reality of the situation. My water had broken.

I was having the twins!

I was having the twins, and I was having them NOW!

Kurt leaped off the platform to support me.

"Ve have to get you back to ze medical lab Jean!"

"There's no time Kurt! Get Hank! Get Hank I'm – AHHHHH!!!" I yelled as another contraction hit. It was incredibly painful and blocked out the whole outside world.

"Jean, listen to me!" Kurt said with anxious eyes, his dark blue face twisted in an expression of alarm. "Zey can't hear me over ze fight and I cannot leave you here. Frauline, listen! Can you concentrate long enough to send zem a psychic message?"

"I think so! I think so, I'll try!" I said, gasping as Kurt helped me down to the ground. I was sitting on wet grass in a thousand dollar wedding dress. Perfect. But then again, if it wasn't ruined already, what was about to happen was definitely not going to be fixed by a little dry cleaning.

_HANK!_ I thought as loud as I could. _HANK! I NEED YOUR HELP I'M.._

"….aaaHHHHHH!" I cried, and Kurt leaned over me with concern. I felt bad for him—he was a man of God. He was kind and learned and knew how to officiate a mean wedding, but—birthing a child? He looked almost as in pain as I was.

Luckily, a few seconds later, as the sky exploded in shrapnel and energy like fireworks above me, and yells and crashes flew all around, I saw Hank and Rogue running towards me sillouhetted by the light of burning metal behind them.

"Jean!" Hank gasped. "What's happened? Are you hurt?"

"No!" I said, trying hard to catch my breath. "I'm having these babies Hank—I mena—I mean, like, I'm having them right now!"

Hank's eyes got so wide I thought they'd fall right out of his head.

"Jean—I—I know this may seem like bad timing, but I seem to have severely injured my arm. I'm afraid I can't—"

"What? No! No, you can't--" I yelled, and then gritted my teeth as another contraction hit.

"But listen—Rogue's here. I'm going to guide her through the process—Rogue, you need a clear view of the birth canal."

"The WHAT sugah?" Rogue asked, looking duly alarmed. Then she looked down at me and sort of gave a sideways glance between my legs. "Oh, ah see," she said, turning slightly paler.

She managed to get through the layers of my wedding dress.

"Jean ahm so sorry bein' up in your privacy like this. Ah mean I'm so so sorry. Ah promise this ain't gonna make things awkward later, ah—"

"JUST DELIVER MY GOD DAMN BABIES!" I screamed at her, and then braced myself as the gripping pain took over.

Rogue quickly stripped off my panties her eyebrows shot up.

"Oh mah god I think ah can see a head! Is that it? Is that thing a head! It looks like a drowned river rat! Oh mah god! Ah think I'm gonna faint."

Luckily, the terrible contractions and dire situation made me perfectly able to ignore Rogue comparing my baby to a dead rodent.

"Don't! Don't you dare! Rogue, pull it together!" Hank yelled. "We need you for this! Jean needs you for this!"

Rogue swallowed hard.

So did I.

"Do you vant me to say a prayer for you Jean?" Kurt whispered to me. He had his eyes tightly closed.

"Yes, please" I gasped. Really, I wasn't all that religious, but good God, if I ever needed a prayer the time was now.

Kurt leaned over me and prayed.


	21. Happy Birthday!

* * *

Chapter 21: Happy Birthday!

* * *

"I do not fear, for You are with me. I am not dismayed or overwhelmed, for You are my God. I know You will strengthen me and help me; zat You vill uphold me vis Your righteous hand…"

Kurt's soft voice above me helped a little. I didn't actually believe in prayer, but being in the middle of this insane situation, I needed something, anything to cling onto.

"Okay," Hank said, putting his good hand to his abdomen, "I want you to breath, just like this," he demonstrated.

"All right," Rogue answered, "Ah'm tryin', just breath like that, okay."

"Excuse me!" I yelled feebly, "I'm the one giving birth here, in case you forgot!"

"Ahm sorry Jean, there's a reason I ain't a doctor. Ah can't stand the sight of all this blood an' mucus an' stuff. It just makes me wanna hurl."

"Don't hurl!" Hank and I yelled at the same time.

"Okay Jean," Beast instructed. "You're going to feel a contraction coming on. Go with it, and when I tell you, bear down. Push as hard as you can."

"All right, all right," I gasped. Sounded easy enough, right?

"Kurt!" Hank ordered. "Go find Logan and teleport him here, immediately!"

"Ah, that's sweet, havin' the daddy here," Rogue sighed.

"I don't care that he's the father, I just need someone with a sharp sterile blade to cut the umbilical cord," Hank snapped.

Just then another contraction hit me.

"Push!" Hank urged. "Push, Jean!"

"I—aaaahhhhhhHHH! I AM PUSHING!" I yelled.

"Oh mah god it's comin' out! The head's comin' out! I mean wait, I think that's the head, whatever it is it's hairy. This is definitely Logan's baby!"

"Rogue SHUT UP!" I yelled. "Shut the hell up and help me p—AHH!"

Nightcrawler suddenly appeared in a cloud of brimstone, his arm around a very confused Logan.

"What the flamin' hell Kurt!" Logan said angrily, "I was just about to scrap one a' those walkin' tin cans, why'd you pull me out?"

"I'm having our babies you idiot!" I yelled at Logan, and tried to practice the Lamaze breathing I'd done at Yoga.

"Holy shit Jeannie!" He said, looking down at me, eyes wide. "Right now?"

"They didn't exactly make a goddamn appointment Logan!"

"Jean, breathe darlin'!" Logan said, looking at me frantically.

"The head's already crowned, Jean, you're doing great! I'm going to need you to push though, hard!" Hank instructed.

Another contraction came and I yelled.

"Push! Push!"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M DOING? AhhhHH!" I gasped.

"Harder!" Beast pushed me. "Harder!"

I pushed so hard I thought I was going to split in half. Logan was kneeling by my side, holding my hand. He'd managed to completely lose his shirt in the fight, and his dress pants were in tatters. We were all staring at Rogue, who in turn was staring with a look of horror at the baby apparently being born from me as we spoke.

I felt something happen.

"Oh my stars and garters!"

"Oh mah God, oh mah God it's comin'!" Rogue said with a look on her face between amazement and disgust, putting her hands down between my legs. "Oh it's all wrinkly like a baked potato but ah think it's a beautiful baby boy! Here it is! Jean, yah did it sugah!"

"There's another one in there!" Hank warned. "It's not over yet. Jean, I hate to do this so unprofessionally—Logan, your claw please—"

There was a SNIKT as Logan unsheathed one claw and Beast guided it to the umbilical cord and cut my baby free. Logan sheathed and leaned down to kiss me on the face.

"Yer doin' great Jeannie, yer doin' so good baby,"

Then Hank held up a small, wrinkled pink form and gave the baby a good smack.

Suddenly the little pink thing was alive, bawling angrily, its thin cry cutting through the night. Hank swaddled it as best he could in Rogue's jacket and handed it to Logan.

Logan took the baby gently, like it was made of porcelain, with a look of utter awe and shock on his face.

"Ah don't suppose the slime comes out in the wash now, does it?" Rogue asked hopefully, staring dolefully at her jacket.

"Push Jean! You're almost there!" Hank ordered me.

Just then a giant piece of metal flew over us and landed several feet away and we all cringed.

"I can't—I can't—put up a shield right now--! It's too much, I…" I gasped out.

"Don't worry Jeannie, we got you baby."

"Nothin's gonna touch you shug. Ah can multitask, all right? Don't mind all that shootin' and fightin' Jean. You just push."

I pushed.

This time it was easier.

"Ah see the second one! Incoming!" Rogue announced. Then her eyebrows shot up, "Wait, that ain't a head! That's a foot!"

"Oh dear. Oh my dear. It's a footling breech!" Hank said with some alarm.

"What's that mean?" Logan asked with concern.

"It means the baby's not turned around the right way. It's feet-first right now,"

"Oh god can you fix it?" I asked, my voice a quiet wheeze. I didn't know how much more of this I could take, I felt like I was on the verge of passing out.

"Shhh, quiet Jeannie," Logan said to me, leaning down. Even now, the scrape of his stubble on my face was comforting. "We got it taken care of darlin'. You just listen to Hank and concentrate on yerself, okay?"

"Okay Logan," I said, looking up at him. He had our first child cradled in the crook of his hugely muscled arm—looking so small and vulnerable next to Wolverine, its eyes still closed, a small shock of dark black hair sticking out in all directions. It looked so beautiful to me. My baby boy.

"It's too late for an ECV, and I'd have to that myself anyway," Hank said quickly, and to no one in particular, his voice the picture of professionalism even though his face told me he was on the brink of panic.

"We'll just have to try and do this old fashioned way. We have no choice. Vaginal breech delivery is all we have. Okay Jean, next time you feel a contraction, push! Push hard!"

"Ahhhhhh!" I yelled, pushing.

"Push Jeannie!" Logan urged.

"Harder sugah!" Rogue yelled.

"I HATE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU! GOD DAMMIT I AM PUSHING!" I screamed, and then.

I felt it!

"Ah got it! Ah got it!" Rogue cried in delight.

With a quick SNIKT, the second baby was cut free.

"It's a little girl! Ah she's beautiful! She's got yoah hair, Jean!" Rogue said in wonder, as Hank took off his own tattered dinner jacket and wrapped up the second, handing it to Logan.

"Jesus," Logan said, one baby in either arm, bawling loudly and angrily. "Well this ain't exactly the way I expected this to go, but…"

I saw Logan shrug, smiling and glancing at the twins. I tried to smile, but I didn't have the strength. All I could manage was a low moan.

"Hey…Jeannie! Jeannie baby, you okay?"

I couldn't answer. The world was swimming before my eyes.

"Go get Tony! Or Warren! Get a flier, someone who can transport us to the mansion safely and most of all, FAST!" Hank ordered.

In a poof of smoky brimstone, Nightcrawler was gone.

And that's the last thing I remembered before the med lab.

* * *

The heart monitor beeped quietly in the background as the two of us looked up at Kurt, who was holding an open bible in his hands, his dark blue face beaming, his glowing eyes kindly shifting back and forth between us.

"Do you James Logan Howlett take Jean Grey to be your lawfully wedded wife, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, 'til death do you part?"

"I do," Logan said to Kurt with a grin. "And even after death do ya part, right Jeannie?"

I shook my head and hid a grin of my own. "Shhh. Logan, just stick to the vows, okay?"

"And do you, Jean Grey, take James Logan Howlett to be your lawfully wedded husband, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, 'til death do you part?"

"I do," I said, looking up from the hospital bed where Logan sat next to me, his hand in mine.

Kurt produced the two rings with a flourish.

I held up my hand, and Logan slipped the ring on my finger. It was a perfect fit.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

With a smile on his face a mile wide, Logan leaned down and kissed me.

It was a long kiss, and slow, and wonderful.

One of the babies started to cry and Logan instantly broke it off and looked up.

"Damnit, its Rosie again. That kid's hungry all the damn time."

"Don't swear around the babies Logan," I sighed, lifting the tiny redhead out of the little plastic box by the side of my bed. I pushed my hospital gown down over my shoulder and lifted my baby out and held her against my skin.

She instantly latched onto a nipple and started feeding hungrily.

"Lucky kid," Logan joked.

"Logan!" I said with all the outrage I could muster, which truthfully was not much.

After being taken back into the medical center at the mansion and tested, it turned out the twins were thriving. Rose and James Grey-Howlett both had excellent apgar scores, were alert with eyes open, and had both tested positive for the X-gene.

James was the smaller twin, although he definitely had more hair. He also had a sweet, mellow personality, and loved being held. Rosie was definitely the more aggressive one, with my red hair and green eyes, and when it came to feeding time, she was definitely greedier.

"Two more little mutants runnin' around here, huh? Bet they're gonna be little handfuls, ain't they Hank," Logan had mused, watching his other sleeping child as Rosie nursed.

"Knowing their parents—specifically, you Logan, I'm guessing they're going to be complete terrors," Hank said only half-jokingly.

I was doing fine as well. Apparently, after I'd passed out Tony Stark had executed a spectacular rescue and flown me straight to the med-bay, where I was given a blood transfusion and some fluids. Of course, I remembered none of it.

Now, aside from feeling like I could sleep for a week, I was doing well.

I had my husband and children with me, and I was content. More than content, I felt like I was radiating happiness.

"So when's the honeymoon, you two?" Kurt asked with a smile.

"'Bout eighteen years," Logan said straight-faced. I glared at him.

"Kiddin' darlin'!" He said. "As soon as Jeannie's feelin' up to par we're gonna head out with the kids for a little while. Ya know, take a little vacation, get away."

"Knock knock! Hey! Can I come in?"

I craned my neck weakly up at the sound of Jubilee's voice.

"Keep yer volume on low Jubes," Logan said, quirking one eyebrow. "Jeannie's still recovering and James is sleepin'."

"Oooooh…" Jubilee said, staring down into the plastic cradle holding James. "He's so cute! And all that hair! He's just like you Wolvie!"

"Thanks kid."

"I think he's got Jean's nose, though."

"Whatever you say, kid."

"Oh my gosh I envy you guys so much," Jubilee said with a pout.

"You ENVY me?" I said with a laugh. "Good god Jubilee, why?"

"Well LOOK at you two," she said, gesturing to our little family gathered at my hospital bedside.

"You're superheroes. You save the world, you have the responsibility of mutant kind, blah blah blah. Lotsa people would be jealous of that, but I know better. That part's the hard part, but you guys, you found each other."

"Well actually Jubes, it's was Jeannie. She found me in the woods and—"

"Logan, I will give you 24 diaper duty if you don't shut your mouth," I warned.

He shut his mouth.

"Anyways," Jubes said. "You two are so in love. You're perfect for each other. And the way it went—how Jean was with Scott and how Wolvie was all alone pining for her all these years—and then you get together in this crazy romantic scenario—"

Logan snickered. I glared.

"And then you have these two beautiful babies…God. Both of you, Wolverine and the Phoenix. It's like a fairytale. It's like a story in a fairytale."

Jubilee said all this with a wan, faraway look on her face.

I glanced over at Logan and smiled. He smiled back, knowingly.

I laughed.

"Yeah Jubes, I guess you're right," I said, feeling the small warm form curled against my chest. "I guess it is."

And like every fairytale, through all the tears and peril, I had Logan by my side, my children safe and warm.

It was a happy ending.


	22. Original Epilogue

AUTHOR'S NOTE: When I originally posted this story, it was actually only Chapters 1-4, all as a one-shot called "The Deal," after the famous line in NXM #117.

Thanks to some really awesome fans and reviewers who kept begging me to expand it, "The Deal" multi-chapter version was born! I had so much fun writing this story, so just for the heck of it I decided to add the original "ending" that was written for this story.

When it says "two and a half years later," it's referring to when the tale began. This was written after Chapter 4, and I used it as a template to finish the rest of the story.

If you're having "The Deal" withdrawal symptoms (I am!), I suggest reading "Family Portrait," which is a little vignette from when our very favorite mutant family is a little bit older.

Thank you so much for all your support, you make writing a wonderful experience—keep your heads up high x-fans and keep the Redship floating along!

Love, Amanda.

* * *

Original Epilogue

* * *

TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER…

I was making—or rather, attempting to make potato salad for the annual X-Men picnic that Xavier hosted every year. The annual picnic. The one day a year when we weren't running missions, saving lives, changing humanity's perception of mutants.

I had James on one hip and Rosie in a snugli against my chest. James looked mildly interested in the potato chopping whereas Rose had been steadily bawling in my ear for the last five minutes.

"Here darlin', hand her off to me," Logan said. He was sitting at the table shucking corn.

I paused long enough to unstrap myself and to hand the tiny, angrily bawling redhead to Logan. When he sat her on his lap she stopped crying almost instantly.

I shook my head, "What a daddy's girl."

"Hey," Logan said smugly, "Kid's got good taste."

I laughed and added in chopped celery.

Logan bounced Rosie on his knee as she gazed into his face, drooling and chewing on her fingers.

"Hmm…want me to tell you the story of me and your mommy?" he asked.

"Logan," I said, in a slight warning tone.

"Well, it goes like this. She cornered me in the woods and wouldn't take no for an answer—"

"LOGAN! Stop it! This isn't a children's story."

"Tell me about it," he said, wiggling his eyebrows and Rosie started laughing.

Logan leaned forward and tickled the toddler with his sideburns. "Never make your mommy mad kid, she's got a temper, just like her baby," Rosie giggled again, and then unceremoniously spit up on his shirt.

Logan looked down at the wet mess of milk and half digested cheerios dripping down his sleeve and shrugged.

"Well, just milk. At least she didn't just have a steak dinner. Then I'd be in trouble."

I shook my head as I finished scraping out the jar of mayonnaise, mixed it in and turned to face Logan.

"I have to say, I never thought you'd…"

I paused. Logan looked up at me expectantly, with a little gleam in his eye.

"Yes darlin'?"

"I never thought you'd be good with kids! I mean, it was bad enough when I found out I was pregnant. When I found out it was twins…well, I didn't know how you were going to survive it."

He shrugged, "Jeannie, when will you learn, I'm full a' surprises."

"I know," I said, and laughed. "Trust me, I of all people should know."

"In fact," Logan continued, getting up and settling Rosie down in the high chair, "I like having kids so much…" he came up behind me nuzzled my neck "I think we should go make some more."

"Yeah?" I asked turning to face him and wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Yeah." He said, kissing me deeply. I felt a flood of arousal wash through me. His voice was low in my ear. "How 'bout right now."

"Logan," I said, grinning naughtily, "Not in front of the kids, you'll scar them for—"

"I HATE to interrupt," a voice chimed in. We both turned to see Emma standing at the door.

"Jean, I need your help on the pie, please? This whole…ugh.. domestic thing. It's dreadfully plebian. I thought you'd probably know all about it."

"Sure Emma," I said, disengaging from my embrace. Wolverine looked slightly pissed and went back to shucking the corn, a little too violently.

We walked outside together and towards the other kitchen.

"So, how's it feel anyway darling … to be the one who tamed the famous Wolverine?" Emma asked, sending me a sly sideways smile.

"I don't know Emma," I replied, "How does it feel being married to my husband?"

We stared at each other for a moment and then started laughing. It was amazing how quickly it was water under the bridge. In fact, I'd been a bridesmaid at the wedding. I saw the way they were together, the way Scott was smiling again, and I was happy for them because I had everything I ever wanted.

It may not have happened the way I—or anybody else—could've ever planned, but finally, things seemed right, for the first time in …well… ever.

"Besides," I said, allowing myself a small smile, "I'm not sure I've really tamed him, per se."

"Yes. Trust me darling, the whole mansion knows, those walls aren't really as soundproof as one might think," Emma said, holding her chin up high. I grinned and blushed, and the two of us walked across the field towards what was sure to be the world's worst pie. I almost laughed at the thought of Scott choking it down and giving Emma the thumbs up.

"Let's go show those X-boys who's the boss when it comes to baking skills. Two telepaths, we ought to be able to make this work," I said to Emma, and she deigned to give me a little sigh and a roll of her eyes.

"Hurry back Jeannie, or I'm givin' Jimmy a sip of my beer," I heard Logan call from the open kitchen door.

_Knowing you, I'm surprised I haven't seen him crawling around chomping on a stoogie already,_ I shot back.

"What that's Jean?" Emma asked.

"Nothing, nothing," I responded quickly.

And I've never been happier in my life.


End file.
